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ELEMENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 DESIGNED FOR 
 
 A TEXT-BOOK AND FOE PRIVATE READING. 
 
 y BY 
 
 HUBBAKD WINSLOW, A.M. 
 
 OF BOSTON. 
 
 AUTHOR OF PHILOSOPHICAL TRACTS, SOCIAL AND CIVIL DUTIES, YOUNG MAN'S AID, 
 CHRISTIAN DOCTRINES, ETC. 
 
 &ilo(jocpi(x Biov Kv8eQV7]T7jg. 
 
 BOSTON : •£ 
 CROCKER AND BREWSTER, 
 
 47 Washington Street. 
 1850. 
 
5n rt* * 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, 
 
 BY CROCKER & BREWSTER, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 
 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 A book on Intellectual Philosophy, should not only furnish 
 lessons, but elicit inquiry, excite the reasoning powers, enkindle original 
 thought, and guide to well-formed independent conclusions. Dogma- 
 tism, always odious, is particularly so upon a subject of this nature. He 
 who sets our minds upon a track of successful inquiry, does a more 
 valuable service than he who puts authoritatively forth the stereotype 
 lessons of the schools. All who have had valuable experience in teach- 
 ing, will agree, also, that a great book is ordinarily a great evil. A 
 text-book, especially, should be mostly filled with " the seeds of things." 
 These thoughts have been much in my mind, while preparing the 
 following pages ; — to what effect, others must judge. 
 
 Briefly to exhibit the most important principles of Intellectual Phi- 
 losophy, as acknowledged by the best authorities, in language as plain 
 and free from technicalities as possible ; to elicit free inquiry, and give 
 reasons for differing from others, in cases of dissent ; to show wherein 
 the human powers transcend those of the animal, and to point out their 
 relations to Christianity ; to trace the mental phenomena, so far as 
 present science conducts, to their physical source ; finally, to adapt 
 the subject both to the popular and the educated mind, — are the 
 leading objects of this volume. 
 
 This subject encounters several popular objections, of which the 
 following are the most prominent : — Want of confidence in it, result- 
 ing from differences of opinion among its professed teachers ; the 
 abstruse and scholastic manner in which it has been often discussed ; 
 the violence which it has sometimes offered to common sense ; and the 
 absence of any perceived connection between it and the practical in- 
 terests of life. These objections can here receive but a passing- 
 notice. 
 
 Differences of opinion cannot impair the value of the truths to which 
 they relate. Indeed, the most valuable truths often come to light 
 amidst the conflict of opinions. But many of the differences now in 
 question, are more apparent than real. Some of them are resolvable 
 into mere logomachies. Such terms as " innate," " idea," " original," 
 
4 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 " reason," have occasioned volumes of controversy. Such controver- 
 sies are upon the mere surface ; they do not disturb the vital truths 
 of mental science. Writers have differed, also, respecting the number 
 of the mental powers, some, like Kaims and Reid, allowing many ; 
 others, like Hartley and Brown, allowing only a few. Now the mind is 
 one. The powers of the mind, are only the mind's ability or propen- 
 sity to perform certain acts. When we speak of attention, perception, 
 abstraction, memory, as mental powers, we only mean to say, that the 
 mind can attend, perceive, abstract, remember : — one and the same 
 intellee^ exerts itself in these several ways. Strictly speaking, the pow- 
 ers of the mind are as numerous as its acts. Classification of the mental 
 powers is then a mutual convenience, for the interchange of thought ; 
 and the fact that some philosophers adopt more than others, is no more 
 an objection to mental philosophy, than the fact that some merchants 
 pack their goods in larger boxes than others, is an objection to mer- 
 chandise. Yet the question, whether a power is constitutional, or 
 acquired, is of considerable interest ; as it involves other questions, 
 touching the true end and right culture of the mind. Nor must it be 
 supposed, that the classification of the mental phenomena is merely a 
 conventional arrangement, having no foundation in nature. Psycho- 
 logical facts, as well as all other things in creation, are so related to 
 each other, as to form a natural basis for a scientific classification. 
 
 To avoid circumlocution, writers often use the same word in different 
 senses. Thus, perception may denote either the power of perceiving, 
 or the act of perceiving, or the idea obtained by the act. Physical 
 taste may denote the power of tasting, or the act of tasting, or the 
 quality of the thing tasted, or the effect on the sense. The taste of an 
 orange may indicate a quality in the fruit, independently of its being 
 tasted, or that quality as experienced by him who tastes it. The former 
 is called the objective use of the term, the latter the subjective. By 
 carefully observing in which sense terms are used, we reconcile many 
 apparent differences, and find the work of mental analysis less per- 
 plexing than is usually supposed. 
 
 It must be conceded, that mental philosophers have too often written 
 in an abstruse and scholastic manner. They have employed strange 
 words, learned definitions, abstruse arguments, when those more obvi- 
 ous might have been used. They have done this, not to appear pro- 
 found, nor to cover ignorance with mysticism, but because they have 
 written only for the more highly educated, or have not duly considered 
 the capacities of their readers. This, however, is no valid objection to 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 the subject itself, and should only stimulate our endeavors, both to un- 
 derstand it ourselves, and to render it plain to others. 
 
 But even after the writer has done the best he can to be understood, 
 his object may be defeated by the reader. He who would read a book 
 on this subject as he would a novel, has mistaken his business. He 
 must address himself to it as a labor, not as a pastime. He must pause, 
 and converse much with his own experience and reflections ; he must 
 compare with them what he reads. The rapid and superficial manner 
 in which most reading is now done, peculiarly unfits the mind for the 
 investigation of grave subjects. The remark often quoted from Cicero, 
 that the human mind is like the eye, which sees every thing but itself, 
 relates to the difficulty of demonstrating facts not cognizable by the 
 senses. When the chemist analyzes a glass of water, our eyes tell us, 
 at once, into what parts he resolves it. But when the philosopher 
 analyzes the human mind, we must refer to our personal experience 
 for the facts in question, and are liable to mistake his meaning. 
 Hence, this is a peculiarly difficult subject, upon which to write intel- 
 ligibly. On none ought the reader to exercise more caution, reflection, 
 patience. 
 
 To the objection, that philosophy sometimes contradicts common 
 sense, assuming that it is wiser to trust the latter than the former, I 
 reply, if by common sense be meant the mere vulgar apprehension, 
 irrespective of inquiry and reflection, sound philosophy must needs 
 sometimes contradict it. The great principles of truth lie below the 
 surface. The celestial orbs roll in their paths, not as the vulgar mind 
 apprehends, but as searching science demonstrates. In most of the 
 natural sciences, principles are reached only by a process of experi- 
 ment and induction beyond the reach of many minds. But if by 
 common sense be meant, the sober sentiment of mankind in general, 
 relating to subjects which they examine and understand, the above 
 objection has weight. Every person is constantly making experiments 
 upon his own mind, and may thus learn its powers and propensities. 
 He needs books, not so much to teach him the mental faculties, as to 
 inform him how to designate and classify them, how to improve them, 
 and to what ends to apply them. Hence, common sense has here an im- 
 portant service. Her sober decisions are of the highest authority, 
 and no philosophy can permanently stand against them. The philoso- 
 phy of the human mind is not truly taught by bewildering abstrac- 
 tions and scholastic refinements, much less by bold hypotheses and 
 doubtful speculations, but by a simple and plain exposition of the 
 1* 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 mental facts, leaving the reader, for the proof of them, to his own experi- 
 ence and reflection. As all minds are cast in the same mould of 
 humanity, he who thus studies his own mind, becomes acquainted with 
 those of the whole human race. He is a mental philosopher. 
 
 The alleged want of a perceived connection between mental philoso- 
 phy and the practical interests of life, is more relevant to writers of 
 continental Europe, than to those of Great Britain and America. The 
 former are the more contemplative ; the latter the more practical. It 
 is desirable to combine the two. The deep, rich under-current of 
 thought and emotion, which habits of profound contemplation tend to 
 produce, gives great strength and beauty to the mental character. In- 
 deed, it is only the contemplative man, that is in the true sense a phi- 
 losopher. Still it must be acknowledged, that even the English and 
 Scotch authors, notwithstanding their strong utilitarian tendencies, have 
 failed to make sufficiently prominent the practical bearings of this sub- 
 ject. It sustains a most important relation to our highest interests as 
 social, moral and religious beings, which no effort should be wanting 
 to render obvious. 
 
 The study of man as a physical being has perhaps, also, in this 
 connection, received too little attention. The metaphysical has been 
 kept too widely apart from the physical. They unite in the same 
 being ; the spiritual beginning where the physical ends, and carry- 
 ing out the same wise design. We trace the operations of matter 
 so far as we can ; all beyond we refer to spirit. The facts of the 
 physical philosophy of man thus underlie those of mental philosophy, 
 and their relation to it should be carefully examined. Yet I am far 
 from believing, that a sound and entire system of mental science can 
 ever be erected upon a mere physical basis. It has been said, with per- 
 haps too much assurance, that " if we are to have a correct philosophy 
 of the human mind, it must come from physicians." The true philoso- 
 pher of the mental, must study also the physical, in man ; but if he 
 study only the latter, I am afraid that it will cost him more than one 
 life-time, to educe from nerves, brains, fibres, tissues, ganglia, and vital 
 fluids, a perfect system of mental philosophy. 
 
 Let anatomy carry its dissecting process to the extreme limit of 
 possibilities, minutely tracing the nervous fibril of each muscle to its 
 termination in the cerebral mass ; — let surgery thrust its glittering 
 blade into the living flesh, and search, amid palpitating muscles and 
 throbbing nerves, for the pathological phenomena, in their most hidden 
 .retreats; — let physiology appropriate each demonstrated fibre for its 
 
INTRODUCTION. / 
 
 sensitive and motor functions ; let it diligently pursue the wonderful 
 movements of life, as it outspeeds the lightning in its courses around 
 and through the human frame, until it escapes and is there no more ; 
 let it place itself as near as possible to the " mechanism of thought," and 
 claim to possess " the narrow isthmus which unites the luminous and 
 mental way ; " — let phrenology next come forth, to fix the seat of con- 
 sciousness in the sensorium, explain how impulses are communicated 
 to the mind from without, and sent forth from the mind by the motor 
 nerves to the muscles, through the nervo-galvanic circuits of the brain ; 
 let it even definitely indicate the organ of every mental faculty, and 
 take its precise " guage and dimensions ; " — finally, let ethereopathy 
 come to the service ; let it hypothesize the existence of an all-pervading 
 etherium, by which bodies and minds act upon each other ; let it show 
 how the human mind, like the magnet, may, by this etherium, 
 pierce through solid masses, may send forth its impulse and even its 
 vision, to distant beings and things, — let it thus reveal, if possible, the 
 mysteries of a supposed clairvoyance : — all these may serve to throw 
 valuable light upon mental philosophy, and the metaphysician should 
 avail himself of them ; — still, we ere long reach the inevitable point, 
 where neither one nor all of them avail ; — where we must take naked 
 facts as they rise up, unexplained, from the spirit- world. Those who 
 make no account of physical inquiries, on the one hand, and those who 
 admit nothing but what they explain, on the other, are alike in fault. 
 Let them proceed together. What neither can do alone, they may 
 unitedly accomplish. Let them bring their respective offerings to the 
 same altar. All their demonstrations may yet be seen to harmonize, and 
 to confirm each other. Such an event would be a beautiful triumph 
 of truth. That investigations of a subject so profound, commenced 
 at opposite points, and pursued by ways so different, should finally 
 reach the same conclusions, would not be unlike those sublime triumphs 
 in astronomy, won by the united demonstrations of the calculus and of 
 the telescope. 
 
 No person of taste can be indifferent to the ornaments of style. In- 
 deed, in some works, they are indispensable ; — success depends upon 
 them. But in a work like this, the writer must strive, mainly, to be 
 understood. If ornament is sometimes sacrificed to perspicuity, some 
 indulgence is expected. Few are aware how difficult it is, to write on 
 subjects of this nature, in language intelligible to all, without using the 
 same words, more frequently, and sometimes adopting more familiar 
 illustrations, than a refined literary taste would dictate. I am sorry to be 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 obliged to add, in this connection, that a few verbal inaccuracies 
 upon the proof sheets escaped detection. It is some satisfaction to 
 know, that they cannot trouble the reader so much as they mortify 
 the author. As they do not affect the sense, I will not further disfigure 
 the book with an errata, but will venture to promise, that, should 
 the work ever see a second edition, they will disappear. 
 
 That the philosophy of the mind should constitute a part of the study 
 of every person, is undeniable. Some have thought it too elevated a 
 subject, however, for youth at school. It ought, undoubtedly, to be one 
 of the later in course, but should never be finally omitted. Every 
 youth of decent attainments, under the guidance of a suitable teacher, 
 is competent to understand its most essential truths ; and unless he 
 studies it at school, he ordinarily never does. Lighter reading, amuse- 
 ments, business, passing events, engross his attention. He accordingly 
 goes through life ignorant of even the terms, which define the powers 
 and operations of his mind. When he hears or reads them, they convey 
 to him no distinct meaning ; when he employs them, he does not defi- 
 nitely know what he says. He listens to lectures, addresses, sermons, 
 relating to philosophy, morals and religion, under serious disadvantages. 
 Sometimes, an entire argument or illustration hinges on a single term, 
 of which he is ignorant. No defining dictionary can supply the place 
 of that clear and enlarged knowledge of terms, which is obtained by a 
 thorough and systematic study of the subject to which they relate. 
 
 When we further consider, that the mind is to live forever ; that, for- 
 saken of the world, it is soon to be thrown upon its personal resources, 
 and that its present training is preparatory to its future welfare, — 
 those clear and earnest views of its powers, duties and destinies, which 
 this study affords, appear to be of the highest importance. To all who 
 are invested with the high and responsible office of teaching, I would 
 therefore most respectfully and earnestly say, — inspire your pupils with 
 a taste/or this ennobling study ; secure in them a fondness for it, while 
 they are yet under your culture ; arouse them to a wakeful conscious- 
 ness of their powers, and to a stirring sense of their responsibilities ; 
 teach them to define and trace the operations of their minds, and 
 to refer them to their appropriate objects, — you will thus lay the 
 foundation and form the habits, favorable to an enduring progress in 
 true knowledge. The study of the human mind, thus auspiciously 
 commenced, prepares the way for the most sublime and glorious of all 
 knowledge — the science of god and eternal life. 
 
 H. W. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Life. Atheistic theory. Phenomena of Life. Vegetable life. Ani- 
 mal life. Rational life. When life becomes rational and immortal. 
 Existence of the soul not dependent on the body. The soul pre- 
 cedes the body, 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Difference between Men and Animals. Difference between 
 the vegetable and the animal : — Between the animal and man ; 
 erectness of position ; covering ; head and face ; hands ; organs of 
 speech ; digestive functions, 26 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 Instinct. Definition of instinct. Distinction between instinct and 
 reason. Examples of instinct ; bees ; butterflies ; spiders ; fishes 
 and amphibious animals ; barn-fowls, 36 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Nature of the Human Mind. Definition of the mind. Its crea- 
 tion ; essence ; the limits of our knowledge of it ; its properties ; 
 immateriality ; personal identity, 45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Immortality of the Human Mind. Why its immortality is 
 doubted. Its mortality cannot be proved. The materiality of the 
 mind could not prove it mortal. Argument for its immortality 
 from its immateriality. How much this argument proves. Natural 
 immortality of the mind. Eirst revelation of our immortality ; 
 posthumous reputation ; graspings of the mind ; the idea of im- 
 mortality universal; opinions of pagan philosophers; the mind's 
 essential independence of the body. Proof from the Script cjres ; 
 Old Testament — New. This a cheering truth. Eternal growth 
 
 of the mind, 53 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Origin of Human Knowledge. Theory of innate ideas. Theory 
 of Locke. What Locke meant by " idea." Views of Aristotle and 
 others. Malebranche. Present view. Present state of the ques- 
 tion respecting the origin of knowledge. Different kinds of ideas ; 
 
 simple and complex, » . .66 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Primary Knowledge. The Senses. Smell; often defective^ 
 knowledge of odors by this sense ; varieties of odor great. Sense 
 of Taste. Knowledge of flavors by this sense. Seldom wanting. 
 Varieties of flavors. The taste competent to all. Hearing... 
 Knowledge of sounds by this sense. Objections. This view sus- 
 tained by facts. Variety of sounds, 79 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Sense of Touch. Not identical with that of temperature. Resist- 
 ance learned by this sense. Magnitude; form; distance; hardness 
 and softness. Sight. The knowledge of colors only by the eye. 
 No other knowledge by this sense. Figure r . distance, magnitude, 
 not learned by sight. Education of this sense. Compensation 92 
 
10 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Additional Senses. Sense of temperature. Weariness and fa- 
 tigue. Pleasure and pain. Appetite, 102 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Sensation. Sensation defined. The mind the agent in sensation. 
 How sensations are known. All ideas by sensation cognitions. 
 Physiological view of sensation. Nerves and brain. The seat of 
 sensibility not exclusively in the head. Sensation not simple. 
 How objects act on the organs of sense. These organs are stimu- 
 lated. Sensations are local. Objection to this view. Cases cited 
 by Reid. Philosophy and experience, 107 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Improvement op Sensations. The organs susceptible of culture. 
 How they may be improved. How the sensations may be improved. 
 Improvement of the sensation of smell j of taste ; of hearing ; of 
 touch ; of sight. Summary, 121 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 Perception. Defined. Intuitive perception. Mutual relations of 
 sensation and perception. Distinction between sensation and per- 
 ception. Entities and non-entities. Objective and subjective 
 entities. True perceptions. — Examples. False perceptions. — 
 Examples. How we may know whether our perceptions are true. 
 Physical entities known by contact. Each entity originally known 
 by its appropriate sense. May also be known by other senses. How 
 the organs of sense are tested. How the media of perception are 
 tested. How the sanity of the mind is tested. Perception pre- 
 supposes attention. Process of perception, 135 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 Conception. Conception of speculative truths. Further application 
 of the term. Distinction between conception and memory ; be- 
 tween conception and imagination. Vividness of conceptions. In- 
 fluence of association on conception. Influence of attention on 
 conception. Conception of musical sounds. Influence of habit on 
 conceptions of sight; of musical sounds. Conception subservient 
 to description. Facts in proof. Is conception attended with belief'? 
 Cases of supposed belief? Cases of real belief. Views of Reid. 
 Cases of permanent belief. Conception giving life to inanimate 
 objects. False conception from imperfect perception ; from ex- 
 cited anticipation. Protracted false conception. Uses of conception, 149 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 Primary Rational Knowledge. The inquiry confined to strict 
 knowledge. Diversity of views on this point. Materialism. Trans- 
 cendentalism. Classification of the mental powers. Brown's clas- 
 sification. Upham's original suggestion. Objections to it. The 
 rational powers of primary knowledge, 164 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Intuition. Reasons for thus using the term. Mathematical 
 axioms. Moral axioms. Metaphysical axioms. Intuitive propo- 
 sitions ; terms, 1 73 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 Consciousness. Refers to entities. Subjects of consciousness. 
 Remarks upon it, 186 
 
CONTENTS. 11 
 
 CHAPTER XVH. 
 Secondary Knowledge, Primary and secondary ideas. Atten- 
 tion ; denned. Attention in brutes. Nature of this mental act. 
 How to secure fixedness of attention. Result. Example. Pro- 
 found attention characteristic of great minds. Absent-mindedness 
 no mark of greatness. Divided attention. Hartley's theory. Ob- 
 jections to it. How it arose. Relation of attention to religion, ... .191 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 Association. In brutes. Laws of association. How controlled. 
 Circumstances affecting it. Its influence on science and the arts ; 
 on speculative philosophy ; on love of money ; on fashion ; on 
 taste and general character ; on morals 5 on religion, 203 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 Memory. An ultimate power. Reasons for so considering it. In 
 brutes. Universal. Circumstances affecting it; temperament; 
 philosophical arrangement; habits of detail; vocation; disease; 
 characteristics of a good memory, 217 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 Memory Continued. Culture of memory. Committing to memory. 
 Committing to paper. Artificial memory. Relation to religion, . . . 228 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 Distinguishing Powers of the Human Intellect. Chain of 
 degrees. Wherein men and brutes are alike. Dominion of man. 
 What constitutes his power and dominion. Likeness of the human 
 
 to the divine intellect, 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXIL 
 
 Abstraction. Importance of it. Illustration. Its relation to ma- 
 thematics 5 to the physical arts. Right use of it. Relation to religion, . 244 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 Classification. Defined. Genera and species. An original prin- 
 ciple. Incorrect classification. This a distinguishing attribute. 
 Science dependent upon it ; also the learned professions. Relation 
 to religion. Summary, .....•• 251 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 Induction. Origin of belief in an established order of events. In- 
 duction a distinguishing attribute. Its various purposes. Relation 
 to religion. Furnishes the test of wisdom. Improvement of the 
 
 inductive faculty, 261 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Reason. Definition. Propositions; hypothetical and declarative; 
 need not be formally stated. Order of propositions. Mathematical 
 leasoning ; its distinguishing nature, 270 
 
 CHAPTER XXVL 
 
 Moral Reasoning. Its peculiarities. Its results may be certain. 
 What constitutes a good reason. Reasoning as distinguishing men 
 from brutes. The human mind progressive, 278 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Judgment. Distinguished from reason. Ground for the distinction. 
 Definition of judgment. Views of Locke and Cousin ; of Reid ; 
 of Stewart. Remarks upon them. Views of Brown. Importance 
 of a sound judgment. Characteristics of a sound judgment, 287 
 
12 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Imagination. An ultimate faculty. Stewart's illustration. Re- 
 marks upon it. Simple acts of imagination. Not confined to 
 objects of' sense. May be wholly creative. Creative in part. De- 
 scriptive ; poetic. Subservient to elegant composition ; to elo- 
 quence ; to the fine arts ; to science, • 299 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 Imagination belated to Morals and Religion. Perverted. 
 Inordinate love of wealth. Love of power and fame. Youth in 
 cities. Vicious literature. Imagination rightly employed. Disci- 
 pline of the imagination. Works of imagination ; how they should 
 be studied. Concluding remarks, 311 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 Dreaming. Mental activity may be entirely suspended. What 
 faculties are most active in dreaming. The laws of association 
 continue in dreams. Suspension of the will. Reasoning in sleep. 
 Dreams appear realities. Imperfect estimate of time and space in 
 dreams. They recall things forgotten. Dreams from bodily sen- 
 sations. Are dreams ever prophetic ? No new simple ideas in 
 
 dreams. Concluding remarks, 323 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Insanity. Wherein dreaming and insanity are alike. Wherein they 
 differ. Monomania. Origin and progress of insanity. Peculiar 
 character of insanity. Causes; hereditary tendency; vice; novel 
 reading; overworking the brain ; religious melancholy. Prevention,. 337 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 Mesmerism. Opinions of scientific men. What mesmerism claims 
 to do. Conditions of producing the mesmerized state. Effects 
 on the patient; coma; somnambulism; exaltation of the senses ; 
 method of inducing somnambulism ; theories of clairvoyance. Re- 
 marks on the subject, 347 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 Suspended Animation. Apparent death. How to determine 
 whether a person is really dead. A case of apparent death. Re- 
 marks upon it. Concluding remarks, 360 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 Trance. Definition of it. Trance of Rev. William Tennent. Re- 
 marks upon it, as a psychological and religious phenomenon, 367 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Philosophical Schools. Origin of philosophy. Plato and Aris- 
 totle. Systems of philosophy of slow growth. Leading peculiari- 
 ties of the schools. Names of them. Morelle's classification. 
 Objections to it. Scepticism and mysticism. Eclecticism. Con- 
 clusion, 837 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 TnE German School. Des Cartes. Spinoza. Malcbranche. Leib- 
 nitz and Wolf. Kant. Effects of Kant's writings. Other philoso- 
 phers of this school. Victor Cousin. Remarks upon this school,- -388 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 The British School. Aristotle. Bacon. Locke. Sceptical 
 results. Berkeley. Reid. Stewart. Brown. Other writers. 
 Present state of this school, .402 
 
INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 LIFE. * 
 
 Respecting the mysterious power or principle which we 
 call Life, there have been various speculations. Some 
 have identified it with caloric, meaning by the term, not 
 heat, but the cause of heat. Heat is an effect, of which 
 caloric, acting through a material substance, is the cause. 
 That caloric is concerned in the processes of vegetable and 
 animal life, is clearly certain ; but it seems equally clear 
 that all the effects produced by life, cannot be referred to 
 the mere action of caloric. This will appear evident, as 
 we shall notice the peculiar operations of the vital principle. 
 But even if it could be shown that life is caloric, the ques- 
 tion returns, what is caloric? All we have gained is an 
 exchange of names. 
 
 THE ATHEISTIC THEORY. 
 
 Some atheistic theorists have considered Life, and what 
 we call Mind or Spirit, the same thing, and to be nothing 
 more than the heat or agitation, resulting from the action 
 of caloric on elementary atoms. To this cause they would 
 
 * Although the subject of this chapter is not strictly a part of Intel- 
 lectual Philosophy, its relations to it are such as to claim for it a brief 
 notice in this connection. 
 
 2 
 
14 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 refer all the wonders of wisdom and goodness in the living 
 creation ! " There is nothing," says the learned Cudworth, 
 " in fire and flame, or a kindred body, different from other 
 bodies, but only the motion or mechanism and fancy of it. 
 And, therefore, it is but a crude conceit, which the atheists 
 and corporalists of former times have been always so fond 
 of, that souls are nothing but fiery or flammeous bodies. 
 For though heat in the bodies of animals be a necessary 
 instrument for the soul and life to act by in them, yet it is a 
 thing really distinct from life ; and a red-hot iron hath not, 
 therefore, any nearer approximation to life than it had 
 before, nor the flame of a candle than the extinguished 
 snuff or tallow of it ; the difference between them being 
 only in the agitation of the insensible parts." * Thales, on 
 the other hand, and the disciples of his school, supposed 
 the principle of all life to reside in water. 
 
 It was, doubtless, from observing the important uses of 
 heat and water in the processes of organized life, that men 
 were led to such theories. 
 
 LIFE WIDELY DIFFUSED. 
 
 Matter may be either inert or animated, dead or alive. 
 But life is more widely diffused through the material world 
 than is generally supposed. Indeed, some philosophers, 
 both of ancient and modern schools, have considered every 
 atom of matter instinct with life. Such was one of the 
 conceits of the ancient atomic theory, which made every 
 atom a living thing. A modern writer on Dynamical Physi- 
 ology says, "The elements of dust are the elements of life; 
 for there is no substance, however inert or passive its atoms 
 may be, whose combinations are not governed by a force 
 common to all vital structures. The very debris of the soul, 
 that lies mouldering in the grave, moved only by the worm, 
 has generated the force that moves it, and testifies that all 
 matter is vital, and ever ready to animate all other atoms 
 with which it comes in contact, with a higher degree of life. 
 
 * Intellectual System of the Universe, Vol. L, p. 108. 
 
LIFE. 15 
 
 Death is but a comparative term, — in a world where there 
 is nothing fixed but change, death has no reality." * 
 
 That ingenious and observing minds should have adopted 
 such sweeping theories, is accounted for only by the fact 
 that life is so eminently all-pervading. Wherever we look, 
 whether with the microscope or with the unaided eye, we 
 see life everywhere at work. Still, there is a state of mat- 
 ter, in which it is subject only to the laws of gravitation, 
 chemistry, and mechanical forces. This we call a state of 
 inertia. There is another state, in which it passes from 
 under their sovereignty, and becomes subject to the dominion 
 of a higher power, which we call Life. 
 
 Life is not itself an intelligent being, nor is it of itself 
 intelligent ; for the vegetable has life, without intelligence. 
 But life sustains intelligent beings, as truly as vegetables. 
 It is a power imparted by God, the source of all life, sus- 
 taining alike the vegetable, animal, and rational creations. 
 All hold it at his pleasure ; when he withdraws it, by what- 
 ever means, they cease to be. 
 
 PHENOMENA OF LIFE. 
 
 Although entirely ignorant of the essence of life, we 
 know something of its phenomena. If we cannot tell 
 what it is, we can tell what it does. It would be out of 
 place here to discuss the subject of dynamics, but some 
 notice of the phenomena of life will assist our inquiries 
 respecting the nature and relations of the human mind. 
 Of the effects of life upon matter, or the particulars in 
 which matter alive differs from matter dead, we observe 
 the following. 
 
 1. Living matter is organized. It is formed into a 
 union of parts, each contributing to sustain all the others. 
 The organism becomes more simple, the lower we descend 
 on the scale of living things ; still it exists, and, so far as 
 we can trace with the microscope, the line of demarkation 
 is everywhere the same between living and dead matter. 
 
 * Laws of Causation, p. 81. 
 
16 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 A marble statue is not alive, for each part is independent 
 of all the others. Take off the head, and the rest remains 
 as before. Not so with a living being : — the removal of 
 any part, more or less affects the whole. While a tree is 
 alive, the excision or mutilation of a single branch produces 
 some effect upon the whole tree; — when the tree is dead, it 
 may be hacked into a thousand pieces, without producing 
 any effect excepting what is merely mechanical. 
 
 Life, then, as related to matter, is an organizing power : 
 It lays hold of ultimate atoms, establishes mutual relations 
 between them, and unites them in a bond of common 
 interest. 
 
 2. When matter thus comes under the power of life, it is 
 perpetually changing. The effect of life upon its sub- 
 ject is, to cause a continuous removal of matter, and to 
 supply its place by the introduction of other matter. 
 
 When the matter introduced exceeds in quantity the 
 matter removed, the subject is said to grow. Physiologists 
 have shown, that the substance of a living human body is 
 ordinarily thus changed once in about seven years ; but a 
 marble statue may stand for thousands of years, and, through 
 the whole period, its substance will remain essentially un- 
 changed. Whatever of change is ever effected in it, is the 
 result of chemical and mechanical agencies, not of life. 
 
 The manner in which the change produced by life is effected, 
 varies with the subject. The plant, by its roots and leaves, 
 absorbs those elements which its nature demands ; while by 
 its exhalations and deposition of withered leaves and branches, 
 it rids itself of what is no longer wanted. Thus it may be 
 said, in its own way, to eat, drink, breathe, and perform all 
 the offices of life. With the animal, some voluntary move- 
 ment must subserve the vital. The food must be volunta- 
 rily consigned to its place, or the vital principle cannot 
 reach it. 
 
 3. Every species of organized life has the power of 
 self-propagation. The law of reproduction extends alike 
 through all the vegetable and animal creations. No lump 
 of dead matter produces any thing, from which another 
 lump, like itself, is formed. But in the flower of the 
 vegetable is a globular fluid, which, as the flower matures 
 
LIFE. 17 
 
 and dies, becomes gradually hardened, and is finally ejected 
 from the parent plant, to furnish the germ of another plant 
 like its parent. And thus does every species of organized 
 life, animal as well as vegetable, perpetuate its own. 
 
 Nothing that lives begins to be, by a mere chemical or 
 mechanical combination of its parts. It springs into being, 
 and grows, by virtue of an embodying vitality, of which the 
 parent, under God, is the occasion. This principle of 
 vitality is coeval with the first embryotic existence, and 
 forms the organized body. The various members of an 
 automaton are formed, before they are united and made to 
 operate ; they are then moved by some foreign poiver ; — 
 but the various members of a human body are formed by 
 the inherent action of liee, — the same that perpetuates 
 their existence and growth. 
 
 4. All living things receive their substance and 
 shape from within. Stones and other masses of dead 
 matter increase by mere accretion. The force of attraction, 
 chemical affinity, or mechanical pressure, attaches additional 
 matter to the mass. And, if that mass is ever wrought into 
 any form of beauty, according to the fancy of the artist, it 
 is by a mechanical action from without. But the substance 
 which enlarges whatever lives, is not thus attached. It 
 enters through roots and leaves, through stomach and 
 lungs, and is conveyed by a circulating system to the 
 various parts. The power of life is greater than that of 
 attraction and of chemical affinity, so that in opposition to 
 them it often causes the sap and the blood to flow. And 
 further, whatever of form and beauty appertain to the sub- 
 jects of organized life, are by the hand of no external artist. 
 The magnificent branching elm, the blooming tulip, the 
 beauties of the human form and countenance, which art 
 strives in vain to rival, are all, under God, the work of the 
 vital poiver within. 
 
 5. Every living thing assimilates to itself the mat- 
 ter by which it grows. Whatever is united to a lifeless 
 mass, is the same after being united that it was before. 
 Uniting brass with gold does not make it gold. Chemical 
 agencies may neutralize, or change the nature of the sub- 
 stances on which they act ; but there is no assimilating 
 
 2* 
 
18 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 power in chemical combinations, like that of life. " It is 
 therefore correct to say, that in a living being the matter 
 does not precede its form. The air we exhale is no longer 
 what it was when we inhaled it ; the light absorbed by the 
 plant is changed into color, and consequently does not exist 
 in it as pure light ; and this change begins when the ele- 
 ment is received by the plant. The wormwood, the rose- 
 bush, the tube-rose, may all of them stand on the same soil, 
 receive the same moisture, the same atmosphere, and the 
 same degree of heat, and consequently live on the same 
 elements ; yet the different taste and medical power of their 
 sap, the different color of their leaves, the different fra- 
 grance of their flowers, sufficiently shows, that while the 
 same elements enter into their nature, they do not remain 
 the same, but are changed and peculiarly modified by the 
 form under which they enter it." * 
 
 Such are the most manifest particulars, in which matter, 
 under the power of life, differs from matter inanimate. Life, 
 then, as applied to matter, is eminently a plastic power. 
 It organizes, animates, assimilates, moulds, and/brms ; — it 
 does not operate in a mere general way, but by specific 
 methods to specific ends. Not more definite and individual 
 is the potter's power in reference to the clay, which rises 
 under his hand into vessels of every description, than is that 
 of the Almighty, in reference to the clay, which rises under 
 the plastic agency of life into every thing that lives upon 
 the earth. The humble lichens, in which the feeblest sym- 
 toms of vegetable life appear, not less than the sturdy oaks ; 
 the minute infusoria, the lowest class of animals, so small 
 that five thousand millions may live in a drop of water,f as 
 well as the proud lords of creation — are alike produced by 
 the plastic 'power of life. 
 
 It is thus evident, that there is a wide distinction between 
 living and dead matter ; that the various forms of organiza- 
 tion are not produced by matter, nor by chance, but by a 
 plastic power, which we call Life, placed in matter by the 
 Creator, — a power by which he creates, upholds, and per- 
 petuates all beings. 
 
 * Rich's Psychology, p. 25. t See Ranch's Psychology, p. 30. 
 
LIFE. 19 
 
 VEGETABLE LIFE. 
 
 This is the lowest order of life, and makes the first step 
 above the mineral creation. It is that plastic power which 
 the Almighty places in connection with matter, to fashion 
 it into the various herbs, plants, trees, that adorn and bless 
 the earth. The peculiarity of this life is, that it is con- 
 nected with no sensation nor will, — all of its movements, 
 involving design, being directly referable to an intelligence 
 above it. 
 
 The life of the vegetable dates from the first movement 
 of the organizing power, by which a living embryo is formed 
 from the parent, and terminates with the destruction of that 
 power. The vegetable body, then, becomes like the for- 
 saken human body, subject to mere natural laws. The 
 principle of life perishes with the vegetable, because its 
 object is accomplished. 
 
 Now it is evident, that neither heat nor viater furnishes 
 this principle. They are only food, by which life makes 
 the vegetable grow. The seed of a plant may lie dormant 
 thousands of years. If the principle of life is still there, 
 we have only to furnish the appropriate food — heat and 
 water, — and the process of growth recommences. If the 
 seed is dead, no power of heat or water can quicken it into 
 life. 
 
 That life is actually in the seed, during all this time, and not 
 subsequently infused by heat or water, is certain from the 
 fact that the seed does not perish. Take life from that 
 seed, and it instantly becomes subject to the law of chemistry, 
 and begins to be disintegrated. The same power that 
 brought the atoms into an organized body, holds them 
 there. 
 
 It is equally certain that life cannot be mere motion ; — 
 for, during the thousands of years in which the seed lies 
 imbedded, it is motionless. Life is there, but no motion ; 
 life is there, but not in action. The same mysterious prin- 
 ciple, by which the great Unseen first formed the seed 
 from the parent, and set it apart as a new living organiza- 
 tion, still remains with it, and is ever ready, until it is 
 
20 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 forcibly expelled,* or its mission is accomplished, to go on 
 perfecting and maturing its work, as fast as the materials 
 are furnished. 
 
 ANIMAL LIFE. 
 
 Animal life is of a higher order than vegetable. It is, 
 like vegetable life, a plastic power ; but it performs a more 
 complicated and finished work ; and it differs infinitely from 
 mere vegetable life, in being connected with sensation. 
 Bichat has distinguished between animal and organic life ; 
 making the latter respect the functions of the various parts ; 
 the former, the general principle of life, pervading them 
 all, and uniting them in one living being. Organic life 
 is only functionary, or subservient to animal life. The 
 whole, therefore, may be included under the general term.f 
 
 As the Creator has ordained that the life of the vegeta- 
 ble shall perish with the body, because its object is accom- 
 plished, for the same reason he has ordained a similar end 
 to the life of the animal. Hence Solomon says, " Who 
 knoweth the spirit of man, that goeth upward," — that is, 
 does not perish with the body, but ascends to a higher 
 state, — " and the spirit of the brute, that goeth downward 
 to the earth," — that is, perishes with the body. 
 
 RATIONAL LIFE. 
 
 But there is a still higher order of life, that of a rational 
 being, created in the " image of God," and destined, like the 
 Being in whose image he is made, to an endless existence. 
 Life, in man, is a higher order of the same plastic power, 
 
 * When Christ, by his miraculous power, destroyed the fig tree, he does 
 not appear to have touched the body. The same invisible Almightiness, 
 which originally put life in connection with the material of that tree, to 
 organize and perfect it, withdrew the vital principle, and " instantly the 
 Jig tree withered away.' 1 '' 
 
 t See General Anatomy, by Xavier Bichat. Persons, not familiar with the 
 French, may avail themselves of an excellent translation of this great 
 work, by George Hay ward, M. D., of Boston. 
 
LIFE. 21 
 
 which moulds the vegetable and the animal, forming a more 
 exquisite and beautiful frame. 
 
 But its chief glory is its relation to a rational and immor- 
 tal nature. Considered in this relation, or as involving this 
 nature, it is known by the various names, soul, spirit, ghost, 
 mind.* When this has finally forsaken the body, the body 
 is dead. Whatever is merely animal perishes with the 
 body ; the rational soul returns " to God who gave it." 
 
 AT WHAT PERIOD DOES HUMAN LIFE BECOME RATIONAL AND 
 IMMORTAL ? 
 
 The first man had no human parentage ; — he was created 
 by the immediate agency of God. But it is not philo- 
 sophical to suppose that God first formed a lifeless body, by 
 mechanical or miraculous power, and then put life into it. 
 It is more consistent to suppose that here, as elsewhere, he 
 worked like himself; — that he put the principle of life in 
 connection with matter to form a body ; — but whether that 
 life was, from its first movement upon matter, rational and 
 immortal, or whether this higher nature was imparted at a 
 certain development of bodily organization, we are left to 
 conjecture. The language of the sacred historian is popu- 
 lar, and throws no light on this curious point. 
 
 And so also in the case of all others, coming into the 
 
 * These terms, as applied to man, are nearly synonymous. When 
 writers have more particular reference to intellect, they commonly use the 
 term mind; when to the moral or the vital powers, soul, spirit, or ghost. 
 Some apply the term mind to the vital power of the vegetable, and hence 
 speak of the mind of a plant or tree. But as this term is usually asso- 
 ciated with some kind of intelligence, I prefer restricting it to the animal 
 and rational creations. 
 
 Mr. Francis Bowen, the distinguished author of the " Application of 
 Metaphysical and Ethical Science to the Evidences of Religion," supposes 
 that life in man may be an entirely different thing from what it is in the 
 brute. His views of the distinction between the human and the brute mind, 
 and on the direct agency of God in all of the movements of the brute, 
 are somewhat in advance of the present state of science, but deserving 
 of the highest regard. The reader is referred to the above work, com- 
 prising his Lectures before the Lowell Institute, as one in which he can- 
 not fail to find both interest and instruction of the highest order. 
 
22 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 world by the ordinary laws of generation. Whether from 
 the first moment of embryonic life, that life is the life of a 
 rational and immortal being, so that in case of death the 
 soul survives ; or whether the high prerogatives of ration- 
 ality and immortality are subsequently bestowed, at such a 
 stage of development as Divine Wisdom sees best; is a 
 point on which I confess myself unable to throw a ray of 
 light.* 
 
 THE EXISTENCE OF THE SOUL NOT DEPENDENT ON THE 
 
 BODY. 
 
 Some have supposed that the existence of the soul 
 depends upon the body. Such were the ancient Sad- 
 ducees, who denied angel and spirit ; such are all atheists, 
 who deny both the existence of God as a spirit, and the 
 spiritual nature of man ; and such are all materialists, who 
 either take the bold ground of atheism, or deny the con- 
 scious existence of the soul betwixt death and the resurrec- 
 tion. But a bright African lad, of a Sabbath school, might 
 teach all such persons a truthful lesson. On being asked, 
 What is the soul? — after a moment's pause, he replied 
 with kindling eye, " I do not exactly know what it is, but 
 it is something that lives without the body" 
 
 We have seen that life is a plastic power, put in relation 
 to matter to organize it. It is then not dependent on the 
 organization ; for a cause cannot depend upon its effect. 
 Organization depends upon life, not life upon organization. 
 The human body may have the same organization the mo- 
 ment after life has fled, as the moment before; — what- 
 ever difference there may be, is occasioned by the presence 
 or absence of life. This is proved by what has been pre- 
 viously shown, but the evidence will be more distinctly 
 stated. 
 
 * Beausobrc speaks of three opinions held by the fathers respecting the 
 origin of the soul: "First, that souls were created when the body was 
 ready to receive them ; second, that they came from God, and are enclosed 
 in the male seed ; third, that the first soul, namely, that of Adam, was made 
 of nothing, and that all the rest came from this by ordinary generation." — 
 See Priestley's Disquisitions, Vol. I., p. 248. 
 
LIFE. 23 
 
 THE SOUL PRECEDES AND FORMS THE BODY. 
 
 If the plastic power, which we call life, precedes and 
 forms the vegetable and the animal body, no less does the 
 same power precede and form the human body. Whether 
 this life or soul is from the first rational and immortal, or is 
 endowed with these attributes subsequently, is a question 
 that we have felt compelled to waive ; but that it precedes 
 and forms the body, is clearly demonstrable from the follow- 
 ing facts. 
 
 1. It is the controlling agent over the body. The soul is 
 active ; the body passive. The soul acts directly upon the 
 body; the body only re-acts upon the soul. The heart 
 beats, the blood Aoays, the lungs play, the body grows, only 
 as operated upon by the power of life. The muscles move, 
 as the will moves them. Whether we are awake or asleep, 
 the soul is still animating and controlling the body, in all 
 its movements, both involuntary and voluntary. The body 
 is then the soul's instrument, and hence cannot produce the 
 soul. An instrument cannot operate, without an agent to 
 operate it ; hence, to suppose that the body produces the 
 soul, is an absurdity. The soul, the agent, must exist, 
 before the body, the instrument, can operate. u God did 
 not create the soul posterior and junior; " says Plato, " for 
 he would not have suffered an elder thing to be ruled by a 
 younger. Wherefore he constituted the soul, both by 
 excellence and by birth, to be prior to and older than the 
 body, as the mistress and ruler thereof." * 
 
 2. Physiological facts prove the same. The minutest 
 examinations which physiologists have been able to make, 
 with microscopes, upon embryonic life, in fishes and other 
 animals, demonstrates that the ultimate material of which 
 all bodies are formed is precisely the same.| Why, 
 
 » 
 
 * On this point Plato has many excellent thoughts, in his argument 
 against atheism. See Plato Contra Atheos ; edited by Taylor Lewis, 
 D.D., New York edition, 1845, p. 19. This is a valuable selection in the 
 original Greek, and ably edited. 
 
 t For this fact, the reader is referred to the Lectures of ProL Agassiz, 
 before the Lowell Institute, of Boston, 1848^49,. on Embryonic Life, 
 
24 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 then, the difference in the bodies formed ? If not found in 
 the material, it must be sought in the formative principle, 
 the living soul. Created directly by God, or proceeding 
 from the parent by the laws of propagation, it forms to itself 
 a body suited to its nature. The living soul or spirit of 
 the fish, forms to itself the body of a fish ; that of the ani- 
 mal, the body of an animal ; and that of the man, the body 
 of a man. Let it not be supposed that we overlook the 
 sovereign agency of God, in the formation of the body. It 
 is He that, directly or indirectly, creates and empowers 
 the living spirit, and guides all its movements. Viewed in 
 its relation to the body, the soul is an agent ; viewed in its 
 relation to God, an instrument. As it is thus through the 
 instrumentality of the soul that God begins, forms, and sus- 
 tains the body, so when he withdraws the soul, the body 
 falls back under natural agencies, and is gradually resolved 
 to dust. 
 
 " The matter which composes organic bodies," says the 
 author of The Laws of Causation, " consists of precisely the 
 same materials as that of inorganic matter, differing only in 
 the number and intensity of its combinations." This must 
 of course depend upon the nature of the organizing agent. 
 " The proximate elements peculiar to animal life are fibrin, 
 albumen, and gelatin : — these are found to be the elements 
 of our own framework, and chemical analysis reduces them 
 all to the same simple elements which constitute mineral 
 bodies. Seventeen mineral substances, or twenty, are found 
 in vegetables, and fifteen in animals and man. All these 
 substances more or less commingle, and each is promiscu- 
 ously found both in vegetable and animal life, as well as in 
 mineral bodies. Chemical analysis reduces these bodies 
 still further into oxygen, nitrogen, carbon, and hydrogen, 
 the primitive elements of inorganic matter, which brings 
 them into dust, the starting point of man." * 
 
 * Laws of Causation, p. 82. 
 
QUESTIONS. 25 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER I. 
 
 What is the first mentioned theory of life 3 Distinction between heat 
 and caloric 3 Objections to this view 1 The atheistic theory 1 Cud- 
 worth's reply ? Theory of Thales 3 Of what two conditions is matter 
 susceptible 3 Opinions of some philosophers respecting the diffusion of 
 life 3 What has led them to such sweeping theories 3 What is a state of 
 inertia ? What is the other state called 3 What is said of life 3 What 
 do we know of it 3 What is the first peculiarity of living matter 3 Il- 
 lustrations. Inference. Second peculiarity 3 Remarks. How is the 
 change effected in plants 3 Animals 2 Third peculiarity 3 Illustrate. 
 By virtue of what do living things spring into being and grow 3 Illus- 
 trate. Fourth peculiarity 3 Facts in proof 3 Fifth peculiarity 3 Remarks. 
 What then, eminently, is Life ? Vegetable life 3 Its peculiarity 3 Origin 
 and end 3 Does heat or water produce it ? Why not 3 Is life mere mo- 
 tion ? Why not 3 Animal life 3 Wherein different from vegetable 3 Bi- 
 chat's distinction between animal and organic life 3 When does animal 
 life end 3 Rational life 3 Its chief glory 3 Subsequent remarks. Have 
 any supposed the soul dependent on the body 3 Who 3 Anecdote 3 
 Why is not the soul dependent on the bodily organization 3 Which 
 precedes and forms the other, the soul or the body 3 First proof of 
 this 3 Remarks. Second proof 3 Remarks. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN AND ANIMALS. 
 
 The first difference that strikes us between man and the 
 brute creation, is found in the body. This should be par- 
 ticularly noticed, as it throws light upon their points of dif- 
 ference in respect to mind. There is a perfect adaptation 
 of body to mind, through the whole range of organized 
 beings. It may assist us in tracing these analogies, to start 
 below the animal, with the vegetable creation. 
 
 DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE VEGETABLE AND THE ANIMAL, 
 
 The vegetable has no apparatus for locomotion; and if it 
 had, it has no intelligence nor will with which to move it. 
 All of its movements are therefore passive. It is tossed by 
 the winds, bowed by the dews and rains, borne to different 
 places by human hands ; the mere passive subject of extra- 
 neous forces. The simple principle of life, the plastic power 
 alone, can develop itself, and accomplish all its ends, in the 
 mere vegetable organization. 
 
 The limbs of animals point downwards, and are furnished 
 with various firm fixtures at the bottom, to be moved along 
 by a motive power in the mind. But the limbs of vegeta- 
 bles point upwards, and, by unfolding a wide surface to the 
 heavens, invite the winds to move them. Both the vegeta- 
 ble and the animal, then, have a moving apparatus ; but the 
 one is moved by a power within, the other by a power 
 without. 
 
 Something more than the mere plastic power of life is 
 
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN AND ANIMALS. 27 
 
 needed to accomplish the ends of the animal. Possessed of 
 a moving apparatus, he has a mind, a will, to move it. The 
 distinction between the vegetable and the animal is thus 
 clearly marked. The one has intelligence, and a body 
 adapted to it ; the other has neither. Hence, the animal 
 is not, as some assert, a higher order of vegetable. Elevate 
 the vegetable infinitely, it is still a vegetable and not an 
 animal. There is not an unbroken chain of degrees running 
 upwards from the vegetable to the animal ; the animal is a 
 new creation. Each has life ; each is truly organized ; each 
 begins, grows, dies, by a similar process ; but here the anal- 
 ogy ends.* 
 
 Nor do we annihilate the generic distinction between the 
 vegetable and the animal, by facts deduced from the " count- 
 less tribes of atomic life," called animalcules. Chemical 
 experiments have proved that the germ of animalcules is 
 abundantly found in vegetable and mineral bodies ; and 
 microscopic observation has detected myriads of these living 
 mites in a drop of water. But the germs or eggs from 
 which they spring, have their unequivocal animal parentage ; 
 — these creatures live and breathe, eat, drink, move, suffer, 
 and enjoy, and finally die, in their appropriate elements, 
 like their larger brethren of the various animal tribes. Al- 
 though they are generated, live and die, in the vegetable, 
 the mineral, the water, they are as distinct from either, as 
 is the ox from the air in which he moves, and the ground on 
 which he treads. They are not themselves a u constituent 
 property " of the vegetables, the minerals, the water, in 
 which they are found ; for these may exist without them. 
 
 =* The infusoria, or molds, that grow upon damp walls, are said to have 
 sensation, but no voluntary motion. If no desire or will to move exists, 
 a moving apparatus would of course be useless ; but if there be sensation 
 only, there is a new creation, a new order of being. It is not certain, 
 however, that infusoria have sensation ; if not, they are mere vegetable, and 
 furnish no exception to our law. 
 
 " The simplest combination of animal life where sensation first mani- 
 fests itself in matter, is found in mines, where ' unmolested by winds, or 
 changing temperature, the infusoria, or molds, cover the damp wall.' The 
 proper element of the infusoria, or molds, is albumen, which they receive 
 from the mineral body to which they adhere ; the mineral being the matrix 
 of the mold. Its delicate tissue is composed chiefly of water, eighty-five 
 per cent, of which is oxygen ; they have a feeble circulation, with little 
 orno sensation." — Laws of Causation, Sensational Physiology, p. 102. 
 
28 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 It is only the matter, of which their bodies are organized, 
 that is a constituent property of these several substances.* 
 
 DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE ANIMAL AND MAN. 
 
 The difference between the animal and man is of a similar 
 nature. It is not a difference of mere degrees, but of kind. 
 Elevate the animal infinitely, it is still an animal. The 
 essential prerogatives of the man are not there, and only a 
 new creation can impart them. In their organizations, phys- 
 ical functions, sensations, diseases, processes of growth, and 
 of dissolution, man and animals are analogous ; beyond this, 
 the analogy fails. However nearly some of the more 
 curious animals, as the ourang outang and the monkey, may 
 seem to approach man, they are yet heaven-wide distant 
 from him ; the distinguishing glory of man, the rational and 
 immortal nature, they have not. 
 
 In the vast and complicated work of creation, God moves 
 from the lower to the higher, with as few abrupt changes as 
 possible. Angular transitions are not common in his works ; 
 and when they must needs be, their nakedness is gracefully 
 disguised. Across every chasm he throws a bridge, that 
 human philosophy may find a path from the humblest point 
 of creation up to the highest order of being. As he ascends 
 in the work of creation, he avails himself of all possible rela- 
 tions to the lower orders ; never passing from the lower to 
 the higher, without binding them together by some common 
 bonds. Hence, the vegetable is by various ties united to 
 the animal, and the animal to the rational ; but we must not 
 infer, that therefore the one is a mere continuation of the 
 other. This is a mistake which philosophy has too often 
 made. 
 
 * " Chemical experiments have decided that the element or germ of 
 animalcules is found as a constituent property, not only of vegetable, but 
 as far back as that of mineral bodies. Fibrin, albumen, and gelatin — the 
 elements which compose our own bodies — are properties and constituent 
 principles of mineral substances." — Laws of Causation. But there is this 
 important difference : — fibrin, albumen, and gelatin, are essential parts of 
 our bodies. Our bodies cannot exist with them. But animalcules are 
 not essential parts of vegetables, animals, and water, for these can exist 
 without them 
 
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN AND ANIMALS. 29 
 
 The psychological distinctions between men and animals 
 will be considered hereafter ; it is only their physical dif- 
 ferences, with which we are particularly concerned at this 
 moment. Man differs from the brute, physically, in the 
 following particulars; 
 
 1. Erectness of position. Man was made upright, 
 not less in body than in soul. He is the only being that 
 was made to look upwards towards his home in heaven ; 
 all animals look downwards towards the earth, to which they 
 are going. Few animals ever saw the sun, moon, or stars ; 
 the glorious arch of heaven spreads over them unobserved ; 
 they look ever towards the earth, and care only for the 
 earth, which feeds their bodies. 
 
 The body of man is so formed that it is unnatural and 
 very difficult for him to walk in any other than an erect 
 position. His legs are much longer than his arms, and his 
 knee-joints so project as to render it impossible for him to 
 plant the bottom of his feet upon the ground, as animals do, 
 with the body in a horizontal position. Moreover, the mus- 
 cles that support the head are so inserted as to be incapable 
 of sustaining it in this position but for a short time. The 
 eyes of the animal are so situated that he sees the path 
 before him when walking on all fours, or with his body 
 balanced horizontally on his two feet, like the barn fowl ; 
 but the eyes of man are so situated that he can see in the 
 distance, only as he moves erect. " Man," says Ranch, " is 
 made to turn his head from the earth to the sky, from the 
 right to the left, to view now the crawling insect beneath 
 his feet, and now the millions of stars above his head. To 
 the fish it is natural to swim, to the bird to fly, to man to 
 walk upright. The Greek word for man, signifying a 
 being that can look upwards, indicates the difference between 
 man and animals in this respect. It influences our whole 
 being and nature. Even the bees, when they have lost 
 their queen bee, cause the larva of a future laboring bee to 
 be transformed into a queen by changing its horizontal to 
 an upright position, and giving it food." * 
 
 2. Covering. The outer covering of animals is hair, 
 
 * Eanch's Psychology, p. 14. 
 
 3* 
 
30 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 fur, feathers, bristles, scales, and other insensible sub- 
 stances, which are a kind of substitute for clothes. In this 
 respect, the animal approaches nearer to the vegetable than 
 to man. The rough bark, the prickles, thorns, &c, serving 
 to protect and defend the vegetable, are like the various 
 coverings, and the horns and claws, which protect and 
 defend the animal. 
 
 These animal coverings change with seasons and climates, 
 thus protecting their subjects from the extremes of cold and 
 heat. Hair, wool, feathers, &c, are put off in spring, and 
 gradually resumed at autumn ; and if we transport a woolly 
 animal from frigid to torrid zones, the hotter clothing, wool, 
 is soon exchanged for the cooler clothing, hair. 
 
 Because the animal has no reason to contrive, and no 
 hands to make, a covering for himself, the all-wise Creator 
 makes it for him. But while it serves to protect him, it 
 deprives him of those delicate sensations to which man is 
 perpetually subject over the entire surface of his body. 
 The only natural covering of man is a highly sensitive, 
 smooth, delicate skin, to be protected by artificial means. 
 Even the first pair, untaught as they were, were yet left in 
 this condition, until reason and industry placed the rude 
 dress upon them. Since man has these, by which to clothe 
 himself as he needs and desires, his natural covering is so 
 made as to answer a superior, beneficent design. 
 
 While his skin serves, in common with that of the animal, 
 to limit and protect the muscular system, it is, at the same 
 time, of so refined a structure as to be almost transparent. 
 Through it we see the various channels of the blood, the 
 boundaries of chords and muscles, the precise points where 
 to apply the surgical instrument; through it we see the 
 healthy or diseased condition of every limb and muscle ; 
 blooming vigor, burning fever, wasting consumption, are all 
 seen through the skin,* in every part of the human frame. 
 It is far otherwise with animals. 
 
 3. The head and face. The head of man is symmet- 
 rical, lofty, and balanced erect. The largest part is the 
 forehead and upper portions, the organ of the rational 
 
 * Although this remark is less applicable to the colored than to the 
 white races, yet in many respects it applies to all. 
 
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN AND ANIMALS. 31 
 
 powers. His face is also the expression of beauty, intelli- 
 gence, dignity, feeling. Thought sparkles in the eye, 
 modesty blushes on the cheek, passion plays upon the lip ; 
 hope, love, courage, anger, joy, mirth, and sorrow, come 
 and go upon the countenance, as the soul bids. We see 
 the man in the face. He is the only being upon earth, that, 
 in strict language, can laugh and cry : - — although deer, and 
 some other animals, indicate sorrow, in ways resembling 
 those of man. The head of the animal pitches downwards 
 and converges towards the mouth ; the sensual part being 
 most prominent. The mouths of animals are much larger, 
 relatively, than those of men. The face is hairy and almost 
 motionless. As the mind of the brute is very limited in 
 its operations, so the face, the index of the mind, is equally 
 limited. The innumerable thoughts and emotions, to which 
 the human countenance gives expression, could not be indi- 
 cated by the face of the animal. 
 
 The lower part of the human face, in the male sex, is 
 covered with hair, to distinguish it from the other sex ; but 
 as this is not needed for covering, like that of the head, 
 men usually find all its purposes answered in a shorn condi- 
 tion ; excepting those who would emulate the goat or the 
 monkey. But the more intellectual and beautiful parts, the 
 forehead, cheeks, nose, mouth, refuse all covering, and con- 
 spire with the eyes to give perpetual utterance to the mind. 
 Even the Jew and the Mormon, with the full growth of hair 
 dangling on the chin, cannot prevent the soul from making 
 herself manifest in the countenance. 
 
 4. The hand. This has justly been considered the 
 wonder of our frame. The thoughtful study of this mem- 
 ber, alone, would seem to be a cure for atheism. Animals 
 have paws, hoofs, claws, probosces, and other substitutes for 
 the human hand ; — it was for man alone to possess that 
 perfect instrument, by which the blessings of civilization 
 and religion are extended over the earth. The delicate 
 touch and finished mechanism of this organ, give it a versa-* 
 tility and power of execution, equalled only by the multi- 
 tudinous thoughts and promptings of the mind that moves it. 
 
 It hews down the forest, and converts its savage wildness 
 into fields of blooming beauty and waving harvests. It 
 
 I 
 
32 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 bores through the mountains, lifts up the valleys, constructs 
 bridges for the oceans, and makes highways around the 
 globe. It builds houses and cities ; it raises temples of 
 worship, pointing their pinnacles to the heavens, whither 
 the mind aspires. 
 
 The same instrument performs the lighter and more deli- 
 cate works of art. It digs the minerals from the earth, and 
 subjects them to the various purposes of utility and orna- 
 ment. It clothes our persons with fabrics of strength and 
 beauty, adapted to all climates, seasons, and conditions. It 
 wields that little but mighty instrument, the pen, by which 
 the mind throws its thoughts upon paper ; — it constructs 
 and operates a printing apparatus, by which those thoughts 
 are transferred, multiplied, and sent breathing over the 
 world. 
 
 The fine arts, strictly so called, are indebted to this same 
 wonderful instrument. Its delicate pencillings animate the 
 canvass ; repeat the verdant landscape, the winding river, 
 the ragged cliff, the towering mountain ; array our absent 
 friends, and illustrious men of other lands and other ages, 
 in living forms before us ; and portray, in living light, the 
 varied and brilliant workings of imagination. The same 
 hand, with the chisel it has wrought, puts life into the dull 
 cold rock, and can " almost make the marble speak." Its 
 flexible joints and nimble muscles dance over the chords and 
 keys of the musical instrument, and make it " discourse 
 sweet harmonies. " 
 
 The hand is the instrument, too, by which the soul im- 
 presses its moral sentiments and emotions. Desire and 
 aversion, supplication and resistance, animation and distress, 
 are expressed by the hand. It is the instrument of affec- 
 tion. Its warm embrace communicates the soul of friend- 
 ship, and sends a thrill of joy into the heart. 
 
 5. Organs of speech. Animals have organs suited to 
 utter all their minds dictate ; — this is only a few inarticu- 
 late, though significant, sounds. Besides the purpose of 
 breathing, the mouth and throat of the animal seem, by their 
 structure, to have contemplated scarcely any higher end 
 than seizing, eating, and swallowing their food. Their pro- 
 jecting jaws, with hooked or cutting teeth, and the strong mus- 
 
DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MEN AND ANIMALS. 33 
 
 cles that operate them, and their large open throats, emi- 
 nently and almost solely adapt them to seize and hold their 
 prey, to clip the grasses and twigs, and greedily to devour 
 whatever their stomachs crave. Many of the ends to which 
 the animal subjects his mouth, are, by man, secured with the 
 hand. 
 
 The mouth and throat of man have their importance as 
 an eating apparatus, but they also subserve other purposes, 
 more directly relating to his higher nature. So great is the 
 number and flexibility of muscles connected with his organs 
 of speech, that their utterances well nigh keep pace with 
 the lightninglike flashes of his thoughts. A language of 
 eighty thousand significant words, with their infinitude of 
 combinations, pours from his lips, with a rapidity and ease, 
 at which nothing but familiarity saves us from utter amaze- 
 ment. Seriously considered, no miracle is more wonderful. 
 Its muscles are so movable, that, according to Haller's cal- 
 culation, it may pronounce, in one minute, fifteen hundred 
 letters. The contraction of a muscle forming the letter, 
 must consequently take place in the three thousandth part 
 of a minute, and the vibrations of the stylopharyngean mus- 
 cle, in pronouncing a letter, in the thirty-thousandth. " No 
 bird flies as fast as the winged words fall from the lips of 
 man." The human voice can be made not only to express 
 all the sounds of all human languages, in every conceivable 
 tone, but to mimic the language of every irrational creature 
 upon the earth. 
 
 6. Digestive functions. Man is said to be the only 
 creature strictly omnivorous. The range of animals, in 
 respect to food, especially those of the lower order, is ex- 
 tremely limited. Some reptiles subsist, like the vegetable, 
 on mud alone ; some fishes, like certain vegetables, on mere 
 water. The higher we rise in the scale of being, the more 
 varied we find the food. But even the horse, the ox, the 
 elephant, is confined to vegetables ; while the lion and the 
 tiger are confined to flesh. But man spreads his table from 
 the flesh of all animals, and the fruits of all climes. There 
 is no flesh which he cannot eat and digest ; no vegetable, 
 not poisonous, to which he cannot adapt his appetite and his 
 taste. Even grass and leaves, in the absence of all other 
 
34 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 food, will sustain his life for a season. The kind of flesh 
 selected by different people, is, in a great measure, conven- 
 tional ; — what some reject, others consider their richest 
 dainty. The same is true of vegetables. But it is not so 
 with the animal races. The animal of a certain species 
 selects the same food, the world over, in all ages ; — any 
 essential deviation occasions sickness and death. 
 
 This omnivorousness of man eminently jits Jam to inhabit 
 all countries, at all seasons ; — to endure all climates ; to 
 live on sea and on land ; to dwell in cities and in forests, in 
 deep ravines and on mountain-tops : to range the world at 
 large, and lord it over creation. 
 
 Some have considered it an argument for man's servility 
 and dependence, that he partakes of so many kinds of food. 
 But they should consider that he is not dependent on all 
 these. He can subsist, like the animal, on one or two ; — 
 and hence, has the two- fold advantage of living when and 
 where the animal cannot, and of feasting upon all kinds, 
 where they are at his service. From the oyster, the turtle, 
 the frog ; from the hosts of the finny tribes, in waters salt 
 and fresh ; from all the animals that graze the fields, range 
 the forests, and climb the mountains ; from all the " winged 
 racers of the sky ; " he gathers the smoking viands of his 
 board. To the substantial gifts of the earth, the corn, rice, 
 and esculent roots, he acids the savory spices of India, the 
 luscious fruits of sunny climes, and cools his tongue in sum- 
 mer with the crystal ice dug from the heart of winter. It 
 is, then, no poetry, but severe truth, to say that man makes 
 the whole living world subserve his purposes ; — that all the 
 fish of the sea, all the fowls of the air, all the beasts of the 
 field, and all the vegetable creation, lay their united offer- 
 ings upon his board ; — and to all he is prepared to give a 
 cordial reception. 
 
 Having thus seen the superiority of man's body over that 
 of the animal, we are the better prepared to trace the cor- 
 responding superiority of his mind. In the mean time, 
 there is one quality, in respect to which, in the absence of 
 reason, the animal has the superiority ; — I refer, of course, 
 to instinct. Having taken some notice of this, in the next 
 chapter, we may proceed to the main subject. 
 
QUESTIONS. 35 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER II. 
 
 What is the first difference that strikes us between men and brutes ? 
 Why deserving of notice ? What is said of the vegetable ? Of the ani- 
 mal ? Of the distinction between them % Of animalcules ? Distinction 
 between men and animals ? How does God move in the work of crea- 
 tion ? What may we not infer 1 First particular difference between men 
 and brutes 1 Remarks. How is man formed ? In reference to walking ? 
 The animal 1 Second particular difference ? The covering of animals ? 
 Its resemblance to that of trees ? Its changes ? Of what does it deprive 
 the animal ? What superior advantages has man in this respect ? Third 
 particular difference ? What of man's head aud face ? Of the animal's ? 
 What of the lower parts of the human face ? Of the upper ? Fourth par- 
 ticular difference ? Remarks. What have animals in place of the 
 human hand ? What does the human hand do ? Give particulars. In 
 what lies the fifth difference between man and brutes 1 What is said of 
 the mouth and throat of animals ? — Particulars. Those of man 1 — 
 Particulars. What is the sixth difference between men and brutes ? 
 What is man said to be ? The range of animals in respect to food 3 — 
 Particulars. The range of man? To what does this adapt him? 
 How does it appear that this does not render him servile ? Remarks. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 INSTINCT. 
 
 Instinct, in brutes, is a substitute for human reason. 
 As this subject has but an incidental connection with mental 
 philosophy, it will here receive but a brief notice. Some 
 allow no instinct to man, and no intelligence to the brute ; 
 referring all the actions of the one to instinct, and all those 
 of the other to intellect* However this may be, the brute 
 has certainly a much larger endowment of instinct than 
 man ; and that, evidently, because destitute of reason. 
 
 DEFINITION OF INSTINCT. 
 
 " An instinct is a propensity prior to experience, and 
 independent of instruction" This is the definition given 
 by Paley, and perhaps the best that can be framed. He 
 adds, " We contend, that it is by instinct that the sexes of 
 animals seek each other ; that animals cherish their off- 
 spring ; that the young quadruped is directed to the teat of 
 its dam ; that birds build their nests, and brood with so 
 much patience upon their eggs, deposit them in those par- 
 ticular situations, in which the young, when hatched, find 
 their appropriate food ; that it is instinct which carries the 
 salmon, and some other fish, out of the sea into rivers, for 
 the purpose of shedding their spawn in fresh water." f 
 
 * See Bowen on Metaphysical and Ethical Science, p. 222. 
 t Paley's Natural Theology, Chapter on Instinct. 
 
INSTINCT. 37 
 
 DISTINCTION BETWEEN INSTINCT AND REASON. 
 
 As these are set off against each other, in the animal and 
 human races, it will further our inquiries to notice their 
 most material points of difference. We shall find that ani- 
 mals have, in common with man, to some extent, sensation, 
 perception, memory ; — all these are implied in many of 
 their instinctive acts. As they pertain to man, they will 
 be considered in their appropriate place. Over and above 
 these, man has rational powers to guide him, while animals 
 have those of instinct. They differ in the following par- 
 ticulars. 
 
 1. Instinct is mature at once; reason matures gradu- 
 ally. So progressive is reason, that philosophy is puzzled 
 to tell ivhen it commences. The first developments of rea- 
 son are exceedingly feeble, and it is a long time before it 
 can go alone. Through the whole period of infancy, little 
 or no reliance can be placed upon the rational powers ; nor 
 is it until a process of training has been realized, that the 
 child is competent even to select appropriate food, and use 
 the other essential means of life. 
 
 But no sooner is the chicken hatched, than it seeks a 
 proper shelter, and, at the right time, looks around for food, 
 selects only appropriate kinds ; and practices, skilfully, all 
 the arts of self-preservation and self-nutrition, which we see 
 in the older and more experienced. This is true of a soli- 
 tary chicken, hatched by artificial means, and never seeing 
 any other fowl. If it does this by reason, then its rational 
 powers far transcend those of man; if by instinct, then 
 instinct is mature at once, and independent of all instruc- 
 tion. 
 
 2. Instinct is a blind impulse ; reason is a reflective 
 power. The one qualifies the mind to think and judge for 
 itself ; — the other is the mind of the Creator, operating 
 through that of the animal. The instinctive movements of 
 the animal are those of a mere instrument, operated by 
 divine wisdom ; the rational movements of man are those of 
 a responsible agent. The animal knows not why he does 
 
38 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 thus and so ; — he cannot interpret his own acts ; — he can 
 give no reason for them. Man, on the contrary, knows 
 what he does, and can give a reason for his conduct. 
 "However it may be with the brute," says Bowen, " rea- 
 son is not united with instinct, (properly so called) in 
 man. The human intellect is pure and unmixed. It may 
 be obscured by appetite, or stormed by passion ; habit may 
 render its operations so swift and easy, that we cannot note 
 and remember their succession. But when free from these 
 disturbing forces, it acts always with a full perception of 
 the end in view, and by a deliberate choice of means, aims 
 at its accomplishment. We have the immediate testimony 
 of consciousness that we never select means until experience 
 has informed us of their efficacy, and never use them but 
 with a full knowledge of their relation to the end." * 
 
 3. Instinct is limited, reason is universal. Indeed, 
 the entire range of instinct embraces only four objects, — 
 nutrition, protection, motion, propagation ; and these might, 
 perhaps, be further reduced to two or three. Each animal 
 has its own specific instinct, beyond the range of which it is 
 utterly incompetent. Each species has its own kinds of 
 food and ways of receiving it ; its own method of locomo- 
 tion ; its own manner of propagating, cherishing, nourish- 
 ing, training its young. Left to itself, each will take a 
 particular course, and no other; — and if we undertake to 
 force it into another, we soon find that we are contending 
 against nature. The eagle, the swallow, the ground-bird, 
 will each build its nest in its own way and place ; — the 
 goslin and the duck, hatched by the hen, and knowing no 
 other parent, will disregard her call and plunge into the 
 water, and act just like all other goslins and ducks. The 
 cat has her peculiar ways, and can never be forced into 
 those of the dog. Thus does the Creator, by specific 
 instincts, limit and mark the several species of the animal 
 creation. 
 
 Reason, on the contrary, is applied in all directions, and 
 embraces all subjects. It can regard all possible objects, 
 
 * Lowell Lectures, p. 242. 
 
INSTINCT. 39 
 
 appropriate all possible means, and sweep the entire com- 
 pass of human interests and relations, as they respect both 
 the body and the soul, the present life and the life to come, 
 
 EXAMPLES OF INSTINCT. 
 
 A few examples of instinct will be here subjoined. 
 
 Bees. The manner in which bees construct their comb 
 and deposit their honey, furnishes one of the most wonder- 
 ful illustrations of this power. The comb is constructed 
 upon the exact mathematical principle, by which the great- 
 est possible strength is secured, in connection with the 
 greatest possible capacity. The base of each cell is so 
 placed upon the rim of the cell beneath, as both to impart 
 strength to the vessel on which it rests, and secure the 
 greatest strength to itself. If one corner rested perpen- 
 dicularly upon another, the sides would be weak, and the 
 whole mass would soon crush. A round figure would occa- 
 sion loss of room ; a square figure is weak ; — the only one 
 by which all the surfaces could be made exactly to coincide, 
 while yet the sides and corners alternate in the way most 
 conducive to strength, is that which the bee has selected.* 
 And if we separate bees from the parent hive at the earliest 
 possible moment, and keep them ever by themselves, they 
 construct their comb and deposit their honey in the same 
 way. The principle on which they do it, subjected to rea- 
 son, involves some of the highest mathematical calculations, 
 such as only a Euclid or an Arkwright can appreciate or 
 understand. Here, then, we have the alternative, — either 
 the untaught bee is a mathematician, deserving a place by 
 
 * I hare to-day attended the hiving of a swarm of bees. About a peck 
 of them hung from a branch, which was placed under the new hive, into 
 which they are now fast entering. The intelligent gentleman who has 
 the care of them, says, " I consider bees a miracle." This living mass 
 moves in a solid body up into the hive. After remaining in this condi- 
 tion four and twenty hours, you begin to see the beautiful white comb 
 occupying the place where they have been. They go in laden with the 
 material for building; and the interior bees, in total darkness, with thous- 
 ands hanging around them, construct vessels for their nectar, which, for 
 beauty, skill, strength, and mathematical accuracy far transcend the 
 highest powers of human ingenuity. 
 
40 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the side of Newton and La Place, or she is a mere instru- 
 ment in the hands of her Creator, acting out his wisdom, 
 and not her own. The latter is our conclusion, and this 
 brings us to our explanation of instinct. The bee knows 
 not what she does, nor why she does it. She acts only as she 
 is acted upon. 
 
 Butterflies. It is known to all, that these beautiful 
 creatures are transformed caterpillars. The two creatures 
 are as much unlike as can be well conceived. We can 
 hardly suppose it possible that the butterfly ever recognizes 
 the caterpillar, as sustaining the relation to her which it 
 does. Butterflies associate together, but we never see them 
 associating with caterpillars. We should as soon think of 
 seeing doves and snakes herding together. The butterfly 
 deposits her eggs, and that is the last of them to her ; un- 
 less, at some future day, she meets them in the form of 
 kindred butterflies. But there is this curious fact ; — they 
 "deposit their eggs," says Paley, " in the precise substance, 
 that of a cabbage, for example, from which not the butterfly 
 herself, but the caterpillar which is to issue from her egg, 
 draws its appropriate food. The butterfly cannot taste the 
 cabbage. Cabbage is no food for her; yet, in the cabbage, 
 not by chance, but studiously and electively, she lays her 
 eggs. There are, amongst many other kinds, the willow- 
 caterpillar and the cabbage-caterpillar ; but we never find 
 upon the willow the caterpillar which eats the cabbage ; nor 
 the converse. This choice, as appears to me, cannot, in the 
 butterfly, proceed from instruction. She had no teacher in 
 her caterpillar state. She never knew her parent. I do 
 not see, therefore, how knowledge acquired by experience, 
 if it ever were such, could be transmitted from one genera- 
 tion to another. There is no opportunity, either for instruc- 
 tion or imitation." * 
 
 Spiders. All who have studiously watched the spider 
 in constructing her web, must have been struck with the 
 wonderful ingenuity of that animal. The object is to catch 
 flies for food, to secure protection in an elevated position, 
 and to construct a convenient bridge for service, when not 
 
 * Natural Theology. Chapter on Instincts. 
 
INSTINCT. 41 
 
 in a condition to spin. Availing herself of her resources, 
 at the right time, she spins, and so weaves the web as to 
 secure the greatest strength and widest surface, with the 
 smallest amount of material; and so arranges the entire 
 net-work, as to have it under the direct control of her 
 fingers. She renders the trap invisible to its victims, and 
 at the same time sufficiently strong to hold them. She thus 
 sits securely in her central position, commanding the whole 
 web, and feasting her eye upon the poor insects ensnared 
 by her cunning. 
 
 No less marked is the ingenuity of those spiders, which 
 bore into the earth. " The mining spider," says Ranch, 
 " digs a channel into the earth about two feet deep, and 
 closes it very artificially by a trap door. This door is 
 round, formed of different layers of earth, which are held 
 together by threads ; its outside is rough, but the inside 
 smooth and lined with a thick texture, from the upper part 
 of which threads run to the surface of the channel, so that 
 the door hangs on a string, and falls by its own weight into 
 a fold, as accurately as if the whole had been affected by 
 mathematical skill. This door the spider has the skill to 
 keep shut by its bodily exertions, when an enemy tries to 
 open it." * 
 
 Fishes and Amphibious Animals. The manner in 
 which fishes deposit their spawn, so as to secure for it 
 a suitable place and element, is a striking example of 
 instinct. The salmon and the shad, for instance, make 
 long pilgrimages up rivers, surmounting rapids and other 
 difficulties, for the sole purpose, so far as appears, of 
 finding a proper deposit for their spawn. Having done 
 this, they immediately return to the sea, having no further 
 concern with their issue. Other animals, again, make jour- 
 neys from the mountains to the salt water, to find the ele- 
 ment congenial to their spawn. " The violet crab, of 
 Jamaica, performs a fatiguing march of some months' con- 
 tinuance, from the mountains to the sea-side. When she 
 reaches the coast, she casts her spawn into the open sea, 
 
 * Psychology, p. 34. 
 
42 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and sets out upon her return home." * In the one case, 
 the sea, in the other, the land, is the only suitable place 
 for hatching the spawn. How do the respective animals 
 know this ? Not by having been taught ; for they do thus 
 when kept always by themselves ; not by experiment, for 
 all do so from the first ; not by reason, for it is a thing not 
 within the province of reason, until taught by facts. These 
 animals know what no human being, under the circum- 
 stances, possibly could know ; or they do not understand 
 their own conduct, but are under direction of a wisdom act- 
 ing through them, by a law which we have termed instinct. 
 Barn Fowls. The above examples suffice to illustrate 
 and confirm our definition, but for the sake of calling the 
 attention of the young to the operations of instinct, let us 
 observe them as illustrated in an animal with which all are 
 familiar. 
 
 1. Why does the hen provide a nest for her eggs ? Why 
 does she not drop them about promiscuously ? What has 
 taught her to attach any value to them, or, if she value 
 them, so to arrange them in a nest as to be able to cover 
 them all with her feathers ? Here, certainly, is design ; 
 but not springing from any wisdom in the untaught animal ; 
 for no reason, until taught by observation, could explain the 
 means of hatching eggs. Here animal instinct first taught 
 human reason. 
 
 2. Why does the hen, having filled her nest with eggs, 
 incline to set upon them ? It is a most self-denying business 
 for the hen, which delights in roving about in quest of food, 
 to be confined to a single spot. She could not, ordinarily, 
 be made to stay there a moment. Scarcely a cord would 
 suffice to bind her there. But here is something stronger 
 than any cord. It holds her, night and day, for three long 
 weeks, to her chosen prison ; from which she departs only 
 at intervals, long enough to get the food and drink essential 
 to life. Sometimes she wastes away, and even dies of 
 starvation upon the nest. This cannot be explained by affec- 
 tion for her eggs, nor by any " pleasure which the bird is 
 supposed to receive from the pressure of the smooth convex 
 
 * Paley's Natural Theology. Chapter on Instinct. 
 
INSTINCT. 43 
 
 surface of the shells against the abdomen ;" for she often 
 continues to set, after the eggs are removed; — nor is it 
 referable to example or instruction ; for a hen, raised by 
 herself, from a chick artificially hatched, will do the same. 
 
 3. Why is the hen careful, when she leaves her nest for 
 food, to return to it before the eggs become cold ? "What 
 has taught her, that a chill upon the egg destroys the 
 chick? If food is not so accessible as to fill her crop 
 within her time, she returns to the nest hungry, imparts a 
 fresh warmth to the eggs, and goes again. If she cannot 
 obtain food without leaving her nest too long, she ordinarily 
 pines with hunger. 
 
 4. After the chickens are hatched, why does the hen 
 brood over and protect them $ At all other times, when not 
 setting, she perches upon a pole ; nothing would induce her 
 to expose herself upon the ground. She seems to prize the 
 comfort and protection of her young above her own safety. 
 How does she know that they require covering ? She does 
 not need any herself. Such a covering spread over her 
 would be very oppressive. What has taught her, that the 
 same genial warmth which hatched the chickens, is, for a 
 time, required to chensh them ? 
 
 5. How is it that all hens have the same method of call- 
 ing their chickens ? They can make a variety of other 
 noises, but when they call their young, they uniformly cluck. 
 It is not because they remember that their parent clucked 
 to them, when they were young ; for those hatched and 
 raised artificially, do thus. And this cluck, all chickens, 
 from the first, readily understand. If there be ducks or 
 goslins among them, to these the cluck is unnatural. Slow 
 to regard it, they stray from their guardian and plunge into 
 the water, despite of her entreaties. Hens cluck only 
 while setting and brooding ; the ordinary cluck seeming 
 -designed to inform others of their engagement ; and their 
 peculiar rapid cluck, to call their chickens to food or from 
 danger. 
 
 6. Why do hens and all other animals, after cherishing 
 their young till they are able to take care of themselves, 
 become as indifferent towards them as to all others of their 
 species f We can readily see, that if the paternal and filial 
 
44 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 affection were retained among them, as it is among human 
 beings, it would become a source of immense evil to man ; 
 and perhaps, as animals have not reason to control it, 
 lead to their ultimate extermination. The answer must be 
 found, where we must look for the answers to all our inqui- 
 ries upon this point, in that power or law of instinct, which 
 we interpret, the wisdom of the Creator, operating through 
 animal mind as its instrument. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTEK III. 
 
 "What place does instinct hold in brutes ? Has man instinct ? Define 
 instinct. What have animals in common with man? What has man 
 •which the brute has not 1 What is the first distinction between instinct 
 and reason 1 Illustrate this in the case of the child. In the case of the 
 chicken. The second distinction between instinct and reason 1 Explain 
 this. The third distinction ? What does the entire range of instinct em- 
 brace 1 What is said of each species ? — The eagle, the duck, the cat, 
 &c. ? How is it with reason ? What is said of Bees ? Butterflies ? Spiders ? 
 The mining spider ? Fishes ? The violet crab 1 Queries concerning the 
 hen: — Providing a nest — setting — not allowing the eggs to become 
 cold — brooding — clucking — becoming alienated from her offspring'? 
 Where must the answer be found ? 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 NATUKE OF THE HUMAN MIND. 
 
 Inquiries concerning the human mind are of two kinds, 
 ontological and psychological. The former respect its sub- 
 stance ; the latter its 'phenomena. As we can know little 
 or nothing of the former, true philosophy is mostly concerned 
 with the latter. Some would reject or postpone all onto- 
 logical inquiries ; but when we are about to discourse upon 
 any subject, it is of some importance to settle, so far as pos- 
 sible, what cannot, as well as what can, be known of it. 
 
 DEFINITION OF THE MIND. 
 
 What, then, is the mind ? It is not a property, or append- 
 age ; it is a living and conscious being. It is not something 
 that man possesses ; it is what he is. It is that which he 
 designates when he says, I. Annihilate the mind, and you 
 annihilate the man. The body is an instrument; it is a 
 tool, a thing. The mind is an intelligent agent. In popu- 
 lar language, a man speaks of his mind as something distinct 
 from himself. He then means to designate his mental 
 powers, or to speak of the mind in distinction from the 
 body. But, in strict philosophical accuracy, the mind is 
 the man. " Do you think," said Socrates, after he had 
 swallowed the fatal cup, " that the body which you will 
 soon see laying here, cold and stiff, is myself? I shall be 
 gone." 
 
46 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 CREATION OF THE HUMAN MIND. 
 
 However curiously the Creator's hand might have wrought 
 the frame of the first man, had not the more wonderful 
 work been performed, the essential prerogatives of the man 
 would have been wanting. There might have been an eye, 
 wrought in the most finished style of artistic skill ; but that 
 eye could not see ; an ear, but it could not hear ; a hand, 
 but it could have no cunning ; a tongue, but it could not 
 speak ; — there would have been only a mass of senseless 
 organized matter. But the breath of the Almighty rendered 
 that matter instinct with living mind ; — it was by virtue of 
 this, that those eyes opened on creation, and a world of won- 
 ders burst on the vision. Those ears were saluted with the 
 melodies of rejoicing nature ; — the taste was gratified with 
 delicious fruits ; the thirst assuaged with crystal waters ; 
 the touch saluted with downy carpets and soft breezes ; the 
 smell regaled with spicy breezes and sweet odors, — because 
 the living mind was there. Lifting the kindling eye upon 
 this bright creation, every part of which, like a polished 
 mirror, reflected its Maker's image to the sinless mind, man 
 awoke to those exalted strains, in which the morning stars 
 sang together and the sons of Grod shouted for joy. 
 
 THE ESSENCE OF MIND. 
 
 By the essence of mind we denote its substance, or that 
 of which it is made. Respecting this, philosophy is at a 
 stand. The learned and the ignorant are alike at fault 
 here. Indeed, the more we truly learn, the more are we 
 convinced of our utter ignorance on this point. " He, 
 indeed, it may always safely be presumed, knows least of 
 the mind, who thinks that he knows its substance best. 
 ' What is the soul ? ' was a question once put to Marivaux. 
 ' 1 know nothing of it,' he answered, < but that it is spiritu- 
 al and immortal.' ' Well,' said his friend, ' let us ask 
 Fontenelle, and he will tell us what it is.' ' No,' cried 
 
NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND. 47 
 
 Marivaux, ' ask any body but Fontenelle, for he has too 
 much good sense to hnovj any more about it than we do? " * 
 
 Equally ignorant are we respecting the essence of matter. 
 Here is, perhaps, a lesson for us, in some future stage of 
 being. To resolve the essence of mind, or of matter, into 
 its properties, is unphilosophical. It is confounding cause 
 with effect. Yet some philosophers have perpetrated this 
 blunder ; — they have made the mind a string of exercises, 
 a rope of sand. Others have supposed the essence of the 
 mind to be caloric. This theory was, for a time, popular 
 with some of the French naturalists ; but it is liable to the 
 same objection, which exists against the theory that caloric 
 is life. 
 
 Nor does the theory of monads, held by Leibnitz, — that 
 supposes ultimate elementary living atoms or beings, without 
 divisions, all their qualities being strictly internal — make 
 a single advance in solving the problem in question. Even 
 if the theory be admitted, it is a mere solution of phe- 
 nomena ; it does not reach the point, which its distinguished 
 advocate contemplated — the essence of being. This theory, 
 in some form, has a much higher antiquity than Leibnitz. 
 " This atheistic system of the world," says Cudworth, " that 
 makes all things to be materially and mechanically neces- 
 sary, without a God, is built upon a peculiar physiological 
 hypothesis, different from what hath been generally received 
 for many ages ; which is called by some atomical or corpus- 
 culae, by others mechanical." f This learned author traces 
 the theory beyond Epicurus and Plato, up to Democritus 
 and Leucippus. It is, however, much changed and modified 
 on its long way to the modern schools. 
 
 TRUE PHILOSOPHY LIMITS HER INQUIRIES AT THIS POINT. 
 
 In consequence of not considering our limited capabilities, 
 in respect to the subject before us, many fine minds have 
 wasted their strength in idle speculations. Some have been 
 
 * Brown's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 96. 
 t Intellectual System, Vol. L, p. 58. 
 
48 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 led to deny the existence of spirit ; others, the existence of 
 matter ; so that betwixt both, the entire universe has been 
 annihilated. It was by a similar speculation, that some of 
 the ancient Platonists, the Brahmins, and other transcen- 
 dentalists, were led to consider the human mind a portion of 
 the Deity; — as if God, instead of creating anew, had 
 divided himself into myriads of parts. " The particular 
 souls of men and animals being but, as it were, so many 
 pieces cut and sliced out of the great mundane soul ; so 
 that, according to them, the whole corporeal universe, or 
 mass of body, was one way or other a God." * 
 
 Taking the hint from these, others have adopted the 
 absurd notion of the re-absorption of the human soul into the 
 Deity, at death ; while others have been led to consider it 
 the result of physical organization, and of course perishable 
 with the body. All such speculations throw no light upon 
 the point at issue ; — they are strictly unphilosophical. 
 They make none wiser ; they lead the simple astray. 
 
 PROPERTIES OF THE HUMAN MIND. 
 
 Although ignorant of the essence of mind, we have the 
 same knowledge of its properties which we have of the 
 properties of matter. In defining matter, we do not attempt 
 to explain its essence; we only state its properties. We 
 do not tell what it is, but what it does. It is that which has 
 the property of extension, solidity, gravity, and, under cer- 
 tain modifications, taste, beauty, fragrance. It is that 
 which fills space, resists the touch, &c. So in defining 
 mind. Instead of attempting to explain its essence, our 
 statements are psychological ; — they respect only its phe- 
 nomena. The human mind is that which has the properties 
 of thought, volition, affection ; — that which thinks, desires, 
 wills, loves, hates, enjoys, suffers. Thus, mind and matter 
 have each properties peculiar to itself; each has a nature 
 wholly its own. 
 
 * Cudworth's Intellectual System, Vol. I., p. 112. 
 
NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND. 49 
 
 IMMATERIALITY OF MIND. 
 
 We do not, perhaps, know all the powers of matter, nor 
 all its modes of existence. This much, however, we know, 
 that, if mind is in any sense material, the matter is different 
 from any with which we are acquainted.* Matter has ea> 
 tension, — it has length, breadth, and thickness ; it has 
 top, bottom, and sides ; occupies room, or fills space, so that 
 two portions of it cannot occupy the same space at once. 
 All this is predicable of the smallest portion. But who has 
 ascertained that mind has length, breadth, and thickness ; 
 that it has top, bottom, and sides ; that it occupies space, 
 so that matter is displaced by its presence ? We are taught 
 that God, the infinite Mind, fills the universe ; yet matter 
 is nowhere displaced by his presence. He may fill the 
 universe with worlds, and yet himself fill the universe as 
 completely as though these worlds did not exist. May he 
 not create minds in his own likeness, to all eternity, and yet 
 space be no more filled than it is now ? For ought that 
 appears, all the minds in existence, both human and angelic, 
 might inhabit a place no more capacious than the New 
 Jerusalem described in the apocalypse, — and this, because 
 extension is not a property of mind. It is strictly philo- 
 sophical to suppose that all the happy spirits in the universe 
 may assemble, at certain periods of joyful worship, within 
 the precincts of the golden city. 
 
 Another property of matter is solidity. -\ It resists the 
 touch ; — we can feel it. If matter so ethereal even as 
 light, touches the eye, the eye instantly feels it. But who ever 
 touched or felt, physically, the presence of a mind ? Matter 
 is also divisible. But is mind capable of being divided into 
 pieces ? Not only the mind itself, but also its thoughts and 
 
 * Dr. Priestly, in his Disquisitions relating to Matter and Spirit, en- 
 deavors to show that the substance of mind and of matter is the same ; — 
 but his argument rests only upon a mere theory of matter, the proof of 
 which is beyond human reach. We are, as philosophers, bound to take 
 the position of acknowledged ignorance on this point. 
 
 fDr. Priestly denies this property to matter. The evidence of the 
 property is inductive ; the denial of it a mere speculation. See Disquisi- 
 tions on Matter and Spirit, Vol. I., pp. 5-40. 
 
 5 
 
50 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 affections, are indivisible. Who ever heard of the fifth part 
 of a doubt, the tenth part of a fear, the fifteenth part of a 
 hope, or the twenty-fifth part of a love ? If the thoughts 
 and affections are capable of division, they must have 
 length, breadth, and thickness. But how strange to talk of 
 the top of an idea, the south side of a hope, the east side of 
 a fear, the northwest corner of a doubt. 
 
 Matter has the secondary properties of taste and smell. 
 But did ever a person taste or smell of a mind ? Has mind 
 ever been ascertained to be either bitter, or sour, or sweet ? 
 We apply these predicates, figuratively, to certain mental 
 states ; but in no other sense. So, also, matter has gravity. 
 But does mind, like matter, gravitate ? If the human mind 
 is sometimes said to gravitate towards the earth, or to mount 
 upward to the sky, we all understand this to be the language 
 of figure. We thus see that mind has not a single property 
 in common with matter. Hence, they who assert its mate- 
 riality, assert gratuitously, and of course unphilosophically. 
 Without pretending that there may not be some other kind 
 of matter, of which we are ignorant, which constitutes the 
 essence of mind, it is sufficient to say, that, so far as our 
 knowledge of matter extends, the mind is strictly immate- 
 rial. 
 
 PERSONAL IDENTITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 
 
 It is said that at fifty a man has not in his body a parti- 
 cle of the matter which he had at five.* The form and 
 appearance of his body are also greatly changed. So also 
 the thoughts, emotions, affections, purposes, of the mind, 
 
 * The reader may be curious to see a specimen of the free-thinkers' 
 logic on this subject. " Sir John Cutter had a pair of worsted stockings, 
 which his maid darned so often with silk, that they became at last a pair 
 of silk stockings. Now, supposing those stockings of Sir John's endued 
 with some degree of consciousness at every particular darning, they would 
 have been sensible that they were the same individual pair of stockings, 
 both before and after the darning ; and this sensation would have continued 
 in them through all the succession of darnings ; and yet, after the last of 
 all, there was not, perhaps, one thread left of the first pair of stockings : 
 but they were grown to be silk stockings, as was said before."— Brown's 
 Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 119. 
 
NATURE OF THE HUMAN MIND. 51 
 
 may be entirely altered. But, through all these corporeal 
 and mental mutations, there is the same mind still. There 
 is the same consciousness at fifty, as at five, — the same 
 which is to continue forever. The man is truly one and 
 the same person, and not another, through all time and for- 
 ever. " The belief of our mental identity, we may safely 
 conclude, is founded on an essential principle of our consti- 
 tution ; in consequence of which, it is impossible for us to 
 consider our successive feelings, without regarding them as 
 truly our successive feelings, states, or affections of one 
 thinking substance. The belief of our continued identity, 
 is universal, immediate, irresistible."* "All mankind," 
 says Reid, w place their personality in something that cannot 
 be divided or consist of parts. A part of a person is a 
 manifest absurdity. When a man loses his estate, his 
 health, his strength, he is still the same person, and has 
 lost nothing of his personality. If he has a leg or an arm 
 cut off, he is the same person he was before. The ampu- 
 tated member is no part of his person, otherwise it would 
 have a right to a part of his estate, and be liable for a part 
 of his engagements. It would be entitled to a share of his 
 merit and demerit, which is manifestly absurd." j 
 
 In truth, all the arguments ever raised against our iden- 
 tity, are contradicted by the plainest and most peremptory 
 decisions of common sense. It is hardly uncharitable to 
 presume, that even the men who bewilder themselves with 
 speculations subversive of this fact, have themselves really 
 no confidence in what they teach. Not long since a man 
 was condemned and executed for a crime perpetrated twenty 
 years before. But if the mutations of body and mind de- 
 stroy identity, the law was wrong; — the man who was 
 guilty had long since passed away ; another man was hung 
 in his place. 
 
 # Philosophy of the Human Mind, by Dr. Thomas Brown, Vol. I., 
 p. 126. 
 
 t Reid's Works, Yol. II., p. 356. Charlestown edition. 
 
52 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Of how many kinds are inquiries concerning the human mind 3 What 
 do they respect ? With which is true philosophy mostly concerned ? 
 Define the mind : — Explain. What is said of the creation of the first 
 man ? What is meant by the essence of mind ? What do we know 
 of it 1 What is said of the question to Marivaux 1 What do we 
 know of the essence of matter ? What is said of resolving the essence 
 of mind or of matter into its properties? What do those who do this 
 make the mind 1 What is said of the theory that makes the essence 
 of mind caloric? What of the theory of monads? What has been 
 the consequence of not duly limiting inquiries on this subject ? To what 
 have some been led ? To what others ? What do we know of the mind ? 
 How do we define matter ? How mind ? What is said of the materiality 
 or Immateriality of mind 1 State the properties of matter, as contrasted 
 with those of mind. What is the inference ? What is said respecting the 
 personal identity of the human mind 1 By what are all the arguments 
 against our identity contradicted % What is said of a man executed for 
 murder ? 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 
 
 Is the human mind immortal ? A more interesting in- 
 quiry could scarcely engage attention. Whether we are to 
 exist as intelligent beings only during the fleeting moments 
 of this life, or forever beyond the grave, is a question some- 
 times pressing upon us with resistless force. 
 
 Childhood and youth, filled with earthly pleasures and 
 prospects, often think little of the future ; but age, sickness, 
 approaching death, awaken serious consideration, and send 
 many an anxious thought beyond the grave. Indeed, there 
 are to most persons quite early in life seasons of anxious 
 inquiry concerning the future state. It is the design of this 
 chapter, to meet persons thus disposed with such considera- 
 tions as may serve to resolve doubts. 
 
 WHY THE MIND'S IMMORTALITY IS DOUBTED. 
 
 All virtuous men, in their senses, wish to live forever. 
 Why, then, if our immortality is clearly revealed in the Scrip- 
 tures, is it so often doubted ? The chief cause of doubt proba- 
 bly lies in the difficulty of conceiving how we can exist as living 
 and conscious beings, after our bodily senses have perished. 
 We are at present so dependent upon them ; — our seeing, 
 hearing, tasting ; our intercourse with friends, and with 
 the world at large ; all our intellectual and social enjoy- 
 ments, — are so related to the sensuous organs, that it is hard 
 to see how the one can continue to exist without the other. At 
 first view, all that pertains to and constitutes the living being, 
 5* 
 
54 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 seems to perish with the body. But this view is hasty and 
 superficial. A more philosophical and thorough observation 
 leads to a very different conclusion. 
 
 NO MAN CAN PROVE THAT THE MIND IS NOT IMMORTAL. 
 
 No man has ever proved, nor can prove, that the human 
 mind is not immortal. Much as man may doubt the argu- 
 ments for its immortality, they must confess that they can bring 
 no proof to the contrary. The most they can claim is, that 
 they know nothing of what lies beyond the grave. But their 
 ignorance can have no weight whatever in deciding the ques- 
 tion. Ignorance is negative, and of course has no weight 
 in a case to be decided only by evidence. We may then 
 positively re-assert, that no man can show, that there is not 
 another and higher mode of being awaiting us hereafter. 
 
 NECESSARILY MORTAL. 
 
 If matter is eternal, as materialists assert, and if the mind 
 is material, then why may not the mind be as enduring as 
 the matter of which it is made ? If matter is immortal, and 
 matter makes mind, why may not mind be immortal ? But 
 it is said that the mind is a result of a peculiar organization 
 of matter, and as that organization is destroyed by death, 
 the mind of course perishes. Let us see. 
 
 The human mind is either a material substance, or a pure 
 spirit. ^ If a material substance, it has been shown, in the 
 preceding chapter, that the matter must be different from 
 any with which our senses are conversant. It may then be 
 matter of so refined and ethereal a character, as to be inde- 
 pendent of this gross, visible organization. What we know of 
 matter, in its more subtle forms, prove this. The wonder- 
 ful operations of light, caloric, attraction, polarization, elec- 
 tricity, galvanism, not only prove that matter exists in forms 
 invisible to mortal eyes, but that the more refined and ethe- 
 real the matter, the more mighty are its operations. What 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 55 
 
 more subtle, more nearly approaching our conceptions of 
 spirit, than caloric, or electricity ? And what more mighty ? 
 If, then, the materialist chose to hold his ground, that there 
 can be no existence which has not matter for its basis, we 
 will here meet him on his own ground. In condescension 
 to his habits of thought, grant him that the essence of what- 
 ever exists must be matter ; still, as has been shown, the 
 essence of mind may be matter so ethereal, as that the disso- 
 lution of this visible body can have no effect to destroy it. 
 The dissolution of the body may but serve to free it of the 
 grossness which encumbers it, and send it forth on freer 
 wing to higher modes of being. The question of the mind's 
 immortality, does not then necessarily turn on the question 
 of its immateriality. Even if man could prove the mind ma- 
 terial, he could not prove it to be consequently mortal. 
 
 ARGUMENT FROM THE MIND'S IMMATERIALITY. 
 
 But if the mind is pure spirit, as all facts go to prove 
 it, the dissolution of the body cannot destroy it. The disso- 
 lution of the body is only & physical change. It is not an 
 annihilation, but only a change of organic combinations. 
 It does not of course touch a purely spiritual existence. The 
 mind being strictly one and indivisible — not organic but 
 spiritual, its existence is of course independent of the body. 
 Dr. Thomas Brown holds on this subject the following argu- 
 ment, which is so much to my purpose, that I quote it en- 
 tire. " The body, though it may seem to denote a single 
 substance, is but a single word invented by us to express 
 many co-existing substances ; — every atom of it exists after 
 death, as it existed before death ; and it would surely be 
 a very strange error in logic, to infer, from the continuance 
 of every thing that existed in the body, the distinction of that 
 which, by its own nature, seemed as little mortal as any of 
 the atoms which have not ceased to exist, — and to infer this 
 annihilation of mind, not merely without any direct proof of 
 the annihilation, but without a single proof of the distinc- 
 tion of any thing else since the universe was founded. Death 
 is a process, in which every thing corporeal continues to ex- 
 
56 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ist ; therefore, all that is mortal ceases to exist. It would 
 not be easy to discover a link of any sort, that might be 
 supposed to connect the two proportions of so very strange 
 an enthymem. The very decay of the body, then, bears 
 testimony, not to the destruction, but to the continuance of 
 the undying spirit. — The mind is a substance distinct from 
 the bodily organs, simple and incapable of addition or sub- 
 traction, and nothing which we are capable of observing 
 in the universe, has ceased since the universe began. — 
 When every thing external fades upon our eye, does the 
 spirit within, that almost gave its own life to every thing 
 external, fade likewise, — or is there not something over 
 which the accidents that injure or destroy our mortal frame 
 have no power, — that continues still to subsist, in the 
 dissolution of all our bodily elements, and that would con- 
 tinue to subsist, though not the body only, but the earth, and 
 the sun, and the whole system of external things, were to 
 pass into new forms of combination, or to perish, as if they 
 had never been, in the void of the universe ? There is with- 
 in us an immortal spirit. We die to those around us, indeed, 
 when the bodily frame, which alone is the instrument of 
 communion with them, ceases to be an instrument, by the 
 absence of the mind which is obeyed. But, though 
 the body moulders into earth, the spirit which is of purer 
 origin returns to its purer source. What Lucretius said of it 
 is true, in a sense far nobler than that which he intended." * 
 
 " Cedititem retro de terra quod fuit ante, 
 In terrain ; sed quod missum est ex setheris oris, 
 Id, rursus cocli fulgentia templa receptant." t 
 
 HOW MUCH THIS ARGUMENT PROVES. 
 
 Admitting the strict immateriality and unity of the mind, 
 this argument for its independence of the body is irresistible. 
 The argument does not prove it absolutely immortal; for 
 the same Being who created it, has power to annihilate it. 
 It does prove that the mere dissolution of the body does not 
 
 * Brown's Phil., Vol. IL, p. 461. 
 tDe llerum Nat. Lib. IL, V. 998-1000. 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 57 
 
 necessarily destroy it. It proves that the conscious mind, 
 for ought the death of the body can do, may continue to live. 
 Unless some higher cause than merely the dissolution of the 
 body destroys it, it will live forever. " No substantial entity 
 ever vanisheth of itself into nothing ; for, if it did, then in 
 length of time all midit come to be nothing. But the soul 
 is a substantial entity really distinct from the body, and not 
 the mere modification of it : and, therefore, when a man dies, 
 his soul must still remain and continue to have a being some- 
 where else in the universe." * It is only the man's instrument 
 that perishes ; — the man himself may still live, with powers 
 to assume another instrument adapted to a higher service. 
 
 THE NATURAL IMMORTALITY OF THE MIND. 
 
 It is a law of science, that whatever is, will continue to 
 be, unless an adequate cause from without operate to destroy 
 it. On this law philosophy raises an argument for what is 
 called the mind's natural immortality. Reduced to a 
 syllogism, it is this ; — The human mind exists. Whatever 
 exists will not cease to exist, unless some adequate cause 
 destroy it. — The dissolution of the body is not a cause ade- 
 quate to destroy the mind : — therefore, the mind will con- 
 tinue to exist after the body perishes. 
 
 This argument would be conclusive, if there were no higher 
 cause than the dissolution of the body, which can annihilate 
 the mind. As it stands, it proves the immortality of brutes, 
 as well as of men : — that is, unless we suppose, with some, 
 that brutes have no minds. In the preceding chapter, rea- 
 sons were given for believing that He who creates the mind 
 or instinct of the brute, annihilates it at death. Other rea- 
 sons will be furnished in a future place. Let us, at present, 
 confine attention to the human mind : — Having shown that 
 the dissolution of the body does not destroy it, we will show 
 reasons for believing that no other cause ever will. 
 
 * Cudworth's Intellectual System, Vol. I, p. 95. 
 
58 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 THE ARGUMENT CONTINUED. 
 
 When we are fully convinced that the death of the body 
 does not necessarily destroy the mind — that we may be as 
 truly living and conscious beings beyond the grave as here 
 
 — we find no difficulty in believing ourselves immortal. 
 The Rubicon is passed ; — we are on the other side of death, 
 
 — the king of terrors is vanquished. We then as readily 
 believe that we may live on, beyond the grave, as we now 
 believe that we shall live till death overtakes us. But the ques- 
 tion, whether we shall actually exist as conscious minds for- 
 ever, can be finally settled only by revelation from God. On 
 this subject he has made two revelations, — one by his Works, 
 another by his Word. 
 
 THE FIRST REVELATION OF OUR IMMORTALITY. 
 
 The nature of the human mind, its tendencies, aspira- 
 tions, instincts ; its relations, doings, hopes ; its distinguish- 
 ing intellectual and moral powers, — all conspire, harmoniz- 
 ing with the more luminous teachings of the divine Word, to 
 teach us that we are immortal beings. 
 
 Man is ever throwing his thoughts, his hopes, his imagin- 
 ings, into the boundless future. So truly does the human 
 mind live in the future, that if absolutely cut off from all 
 prospect of continued existence, it could hardly endure the 
 present moment. In the most vigorous and positive impulses 
 of his nature, he is not a mere creature of to-day, but of all 
 coming time. If he fails to live in view of living forever, he 
 acts unnaturally. Did the Creator implant this prospective- 
 ness in our nature for nothing ? or only to sport with and 
 disappoint it ? 
 
 DESIRE FOR POSTHUMOUS REPUTATION. 
 
 A desire for posthumous reputation is natural to man. 
 Who that is not in a perverted state of mind, is indifferent 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 59 
 
 respecting the estimation in which he shall be held amongst 
 men after his decease ? This desire is founded on an expec- 
 tation of a continued existence. Were a man annihilated 
 at death, his reputation, so far as he is concerned, might as 
 well be annihilated with him. But his reputation does live, 
 vainly indeed to Mm, if he no longer lives to possess it. 
 When we think of the reputations of a Nero and of a Wash- 
 ington, sustaining their respective relations to the living 
 minds to whom they belong, they have real importance to 
 their owners. But if their respective owners have ceased to 
 be, the reputation of the one is of no more value to him than 
 that of the other. Why do we instinctively tread so lightly 
 on the ashes of the dead, and count the defaming of them a 
 sacrilege, but that it is in our nature to feel that their 
 reputation is dear to them ? 
 
 THE POWERS AND GRASPINGS OF THE HUMAN MIND ARGUE 
 ITS IMMORTALITY. 
 
 The human mind expatiates in illimitable space and dila- 
 tion. The mighty reaches of man's thoughts, are out of all 
 proportion to the little time and space in which his body 
 lives. It is but a point of time and space, that the body 
 occupies ; — the mind stretches itself every way into infinity. 
 " The sublime attainments which man has been capable of 
 making in science and the wonders of his own creative art, 
 in that magnificent scene to which he has known how to give 
 new magnificence, have been considered by many, as them- 
 selves proofs of the immortality of a being so richly endowed. 
 When we view him, indeed, comprehending in his single 
 conceptions the history of ages that have preceded him, and 
 not content with the past, anticipating events that are to be- 
 gin, only in ages as remote in futurity as the origin of the uni- 
 verse is in the past, measuring the distance of the remotest 
 planets, and naming in what year of other centuries the na- 
 tions that are now gazing with astonishment on some comet 
 are to gaze on it in its return, — it is scarcely possible for us 
 to believe that a mind, which seems equally capacious of 
 what is infinite in space and time, should be only a creature, 
 
60 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 whose brief existence is measurable by a few points of space 
 and a few moments of eternity." * 
 
 THE IDEA OF OUR IMMORTALITY UNIVERSAL. 
 
 The immortality of the human mind has ever been, in 
 some sense, almost universally admitted. Even the rudest 
 pagan and savage nations have entertained some vague ideas 
 of a kind of shadowy, ghostly, mystical existence hereafter. 
 The metempsychoses of the heathen systems are a part of 
 the same crude speculations. It is, however, a prevailing sen- 
 timent in these speculations, that the mind, when separated 
 from the body, is but a feeble, half-conscious existence ; 
 that the minds of brutes, as well as of men, are immortal ; 
 and that there is, in the progress of ages, an interchange of 
 bodies and states between them. That the existence of the 
 mind absolutely depends upon the bodily organization, is an 
 opinion which has ever been confined to a very few minds. 
 It is due to the wisest of the heathen philosophers to say, 
 that they never entertained so gross an idea. 
 
 OPINIONS OF PAGAN PHILOSOPHERS. 
 
 Pythagoras, the renowned philosopher of Samos, nearly 
 five hundred years before Christ ; Socrates, of Athens, the 
 most celebrated of the ancient philosophers, four hundred years 
 before Christ ; Plato, the illustrious founder of the school 
 bearing his name, three hundred and fifty years before Christ; 
 Aristotle, the distinguished pupil of Plato, and founder of 
 another school ; Cicero, the brightest star in the firmament of 
 Rome, equally brilliant as a statesman and a philosopher, who 
 flourished a century before Christ ; Seneca, the wise philoso- 
 pher, a teacher of Nero, — all these masters in philosophy, 
 and their numerous pupils, favored with uncommonly keen 
 mental vision, and perhaps with some faint adumbrations of 
 revealed light, were enabled to see and teach the spiritual 
 
 * Brown's Phil., Vol. II, p. 476. 
 
IMMOKTALHY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 61 
 
 and immortal nature of the human mind. Their conceptions 
 were however faint, their thoughts confused, and many of 
 their speculations wild and fanciful. Pythagoras was the 
 first to teach explicitly the doctrine of metempsycosis ; and 
 most of the great philosophers succeeding him imbibed more 
 or less of his speculations. They exhibit striking examples 
 of great and vigorous minds groping in twilight. These are 
 among the original thinkers, of whom the world has so few. 
 
 THE MIND'S ESSENTIAL INDEPENDENCE OF THE BODY. 
 
 We shall have occasion to see, hereafter, the mind's con- 
 stituted dependence on the bodily senses, as instruments for 
 acquiring knowledge. But after knowledge has entered the 
 mind, the mind can operate without these instruments. In 
 the last moments of life, in swoons and trances, when all the 
 senses have been locked up as in death's cold embrace, and 
 every avenue of bodily communication with the mind has 
 been closed, the mind has realized its most intense activity ; 
 it has then enjoyed the most splendid visions ; it has walked 
 amidst the flowers of paradise ; it has gazed upon the splen- 
 dors and drank the melodies of brighter worlds than this. 
 We have abundant testimony to numerous facts of this de- 
 scription, some of which will hereafter be given. 
 
 If it be replied, that in the cases supposed the body was not 
 actually dead ; that does not affect our inference ; — for as 
 to all power of communion with things visible and real, as an 
 instrument of the spirit, it was dead. That bodily eye did 
 not see ; that ear did not hear, that hand did not feel. Yet 
 brilliant visions passed before the mind, unearthly music 
 poured upon it, and the most exquisite and intense joys 
 were realized. The mind saw, but not with the bodily eye ; 
 it heard, but not with the bodily ear ; it felt, but not with 
 the bodily senses. It is thus evident that the mind can live, 
 and assert all its glorious prerogatives, independently of the 
 body. 
 
62 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PROOF PROM THE SACRED SCRIPTURES. 
 
 Having given some of the principal reasons, drawn from 
 the light of nature, for believing the human mind immortal, 
 it comports with our design to refer to the sacred Scriptures 
 for our final and positive proof. This source of proof is in- 
 deed of itself sufficient ; but as philosophy is now our study, 
 it is our duty to attend to her teachings. Having attended 
 to these, it is both interesting and useful to observe how they 
 harmonize with the higher and more luminous teachings of 
 the divine Word. 
 
 THE OLD TESTAMENT. 
 
 A state of existence and of everlasting rewards beyond the 
 grave, was revealed to the saints of the early ages, and it is 
 expressly recorded, as a monument to their excellence, that 
 they hence deduced their motives of action. " These all died 
 in faith, not having received the promises, but having seen 
 them afar off, and were persuaded of them, and embraced 
 them, and confessed that they were strangers and pilgrims 
 on the earth." — "They desired a better country, even an 
 heavenly, wherefore God was not ashamed to be called their 
 God : " — as if he would have been ashamed to own them as 
 his heirs, on any other condition than that of their recogniz- 
 ing their immortality, and acting in view of it. 
 
 THE NEW TESTAMENT. 
 
 Clearest of all is the revelation of our eternal existence, 
 by Jesus Christ, " who hath abolished death, and brought 
 life and immortality to light through the gospel" Heathens 
 obscurely dreamed it ; philosophers argued it ; — Socrates, 
 Plato, Cicero, made it appear reasonable : — Abraham, 
 Moses, Job, saw it as through a glass darkly ; — but Jesus 
 Christ brought it to light. The last cloud was dispersed, 
 when an invisible hand rolled the stone from the door of the 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 63 
 
 sepulchre, and the Conqueror ascended with triumph into 
 the heavens. It was in the light thus shed upon the grave, 
 that the apostles labored and suffered reproach, declaring 
 that for thsni to live was Christ, and to die, gain ; and that 
 they even desired to depart and be with Christ, which was far 
 better than to abide in the flesh. Walking in the same light, 
 all the truly good and noble of the earth, all the heroes and 
 martyrs of the cross, all the friends of truth and righteous- 
 ness, have ascended the shining path to higher worlds. To 
 adduce isolated proofs from the Scriptures, were quite super- 
 fluous ; for it is the acknowledged basis of its religion, — the 
 golden warp, into which are woven all its doctrines, precepts, 
 motives, hopes. If Christianity be truth, the endless exist- 
 ence of man as a rational being is certain. 
 
 THE IMMORTALITY OE THE MIND A CHEERING TRUTH. 
 
 This view of the human mind, apart from moral consider- 
 ations, disarms death of its terrors. We no longer fear that 
 which kills the body, but has no power to kill the soul. We 
 perceive the true dignity, value, and security of our exist- 
 ence ; — and, if true to our nature, we feel it in our hearts 
 to rise above the caprices and disappointments of earth, and 
 fasten our hopes in the skies. Assured that the dissolution 
 of the body is but the freeing of the spirit from its prison of 
 clay, that death to the righteous is but the passage to a 
 higher and more congenial mode of life, we feel inspired with 
 more than earthly desires, that this imperishable flame, 
 which the breath of the Almighty has kindled, may burn 
 brightly upwards towards the eternal throne and mingle its 
 incense with that of angelic beings. 
 
 How cheering to anticipate a state, in which the light now 
 freely shed by science, ivill break forth into the full splendors 
 of noon day. " While the mind rests, with a pleasing satis- 
 faction, on these great deductions of philosophy, it yet pants 
 for a fuller and higher revelation. If the man of clay has 
 been honored with such magnificent apartments, and fed at 
 such a luxurious table, may not his undying and reasoning soul 
 count upon a spiritual palace and sigh for that intellectual 
 
64 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 repast at which the Master of the feast is to disclose his se- 
 crets ? In its rapid, continued expansion, the mind, conscious 
 of its capacity for a higher sphere, feels even now that 
 it is advancing to a goal more distant and more cheering than 
 the tomb. Its energies increase and multiply under the 
 encumbrance of age ; and even when man's heart is turning 
 into bone, and his joints into marble, his mind can soar to 
 its highest flight, and seize with its firmest grasp. Nor do 
 the affections plead less eloquently for a future home. Age 
 is their season of warmth and genial emotion. The objects 
 long and fondly clasped to our bosom have been removed 
 by' Him who gives, and who takes what he gives ; and 
 lingering in the valley of bleeding and of broken hearts, we 
 yearn for that break of day which is to usher in the eternal 
 morn — for the house of many mansions which is already 
 prepared for us, and for the promised welcome to the thresh- 
 hold of the blest, where we shall meet again the loved and 
 lost, and devote the eternity of our being to the service of 
 its Almighty Author," * 
 
 THE ETERNAL GROWTH OF THE MIND. 
 
 The immortality of the mind is a pledge of its eternal pro- 
 gression. All its powers increase in strength and compass 
 by use, and, unless interfered with by bodily infirmity, this 
 process continues to the end of life. The legitimate infer- 
 ence is, that when no longer subject to interruptions from 
 physical causes, it will steadily grow forever. We cannot 
 avoid this inference, at least in regard to virtuous minds. 
 The effect of moral virtue on all minds are health, vigor, 
 progression. Shoot the eye then down the long track of ages 
 and behold that mind, now tabernacled in this body, if true 
 to itself, comprehending more knowledge, more capacity for 
 enjoyment, more actual felicity, than the aggregate of all 
 these ever yet possessed by the human race. Let the ever 
 expanding circles of eternity continue to move round, and 
 we at length reach the point, where the attainments of that 
 
 * North British Eevicw. 
 
IMMORTALITY OF THE HUMAN MIND. 65 
 
 mind leave those which Gabriel has now made, in almost 
 sightless distance. This is what the sacred writers call glory 
 added to glory — exceeding and jet exceeding forever — as 
 the fruit of a life true to our immortality : — an immortal 
 mind, forever speeding its way, on the wings of eternity, 
 
 TOWARDS THE INFINITE PERFECTIONS OF JEHOVAH. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER V. 
 
 Subject of this chapter ? What renders it peculiarly interesting ? De- 
 sign of the chapter 1 Why do men doubt their immortality % How does 
 it seem at first view ? To what does a more philosophical observation 
 lead 1 What has no man been able to prove ? What is said of human 
 ignorance on this subject 1 ? Suppose the mind material — what then ? 
 State the argument. Suppose the mind pure spirit — state the argument 
 in this view. Does this prove the mind absolutely immortal 1 Why not % 
 What does it prove ? State the argument for the mind's natural immortali- 
 ty. Under what circumstances would it be conclusive ? What does it 
 prove as it stands 1 State what is said of us, when convinced that the 
 death of the body does not destroy the mind. How is this question finally 
 settled 1 How many revelations has God made to us ? What is said of 
 the nature of the human mind &c. 1 What is said of man's ever throwing 
 his thoughts, &c, into the future 1 What of desire for posthumous repu- 
 tation ? Nero and Washington % In what dees the mind expatiate % 
 State the substance of what is said here. State what is said respecting 
 the idea of our immortality being universal. State the opinions of pagan 
 philosophers. What is said of men in the last moments of life — in swoons, 
 trances, &c. % Suppose it be said that the body, in these states, was not 
 dead, what is the answer % State the proof from the Old Testament. 
 From the New Testament. Why is the mind's immortality a cheering 
 truth 1 Of what is it a pledge 1 State the argument and inference. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 It is an inquiry of much philosophical interest, How the 
 human mind comes in possession of its first knoivledge. Is 
 the mind created with the elements or germs of knowledge 
 within it f Or is it created with only the powers to acquire 
 knowledge ? Are the elements of its earliest knowledge 
 innate or acquired? This has been the great question of 
 the schools. 
 
 Of the advocates for the doctrine of innate ideas, Plato 
 among the ancients, and Des Cartes among the moderns, are 
 eminent. The Kantian philosophy of Germany, and the 
 transcendental speculations generally, are in some form 
 favorable to this theory ; and, in fact, more or less depend- 
 ent upon it. Among the advocates for the theory, that all 
 our ideas are acquired, Aristotle among the ancients, and 
 Locke among the moderns, are most prominent. Indeed, 
 Locke has the honor to be the first who brought this theory 
 into full symmetrical form, and impressed it on the convic- 
 tions of a large part of the thinking world. After all the 
 merciless attacks upon this dry philosopher, probably no 
 name is to this day greater in mental science than John 
 Locke. 
 
 THE THEORY OF INNATE IDEAS. 
 
 The theory of innate ideas is this: — that the human 
 mind is created with certain ideas or elements of knowledge 
 inherent in it, as part of the mind itself, or at least as its 
 
ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 67 
 
 concreated furniture. All minds are supposed to have 
 original ideas, since without some innate capital with which 
 to commence, it is thought the mind could never obtain any 
 knowledge whatever. Comparison is made between a human 
 mind and a seed. The seed is the embryo of the future 
 plant. The plant is but the development and growth of 
 what was concreated with the seed, and wrapped up in 
 miniature within it. As the seed, when under the influence 
 of the warm and moist earth, spontaneously germinates and 
 puts forth the embryo plant within it, so the human mind, 
 when subjected to appropriate influences, is supposed spon- 
 taneously to germinate and put forth into actual knowledge 
 the ideas inherent in its nature. 
 
 ANSWER TO THE ABOVE. 
 
 The analogy fails in the essential point, and therefore 
 furnishes no evidence. The human mind is an intelligent 
 spirit; the plant is mere animated matter. Each has a 
 nature unlike the other, and peculiar to itself. The mind 
 is active, the plant is passive. The mind is a living intel- 
 lect, and has therefore the power to acquire knowledge ; — 
 the seed is vitalized matter, without intellect, and can, 
 therefore, only be made to develop itself. To suppose that 
 the mind germinates knowledge, instead of acquiring it, is 
 to rob it of its distinguishing nature, and reduce it to a kind 
 of vegetable. 
 
 THE THEORY OF LOCKE. 
 
 The theory of Locke is, that the human mind is created 
 without any ideas whatever, — that in this respect it resem- 
 bles a sheet of white paper, on which nothing is written, but 
 on which ideas of every description may be imprinted.* 
 He maintains that our first knowledge is obtained in the 
 
 =* Essay concerning Human Understanding. Book II., Chap. I., Sec. 2, 
 p. 73. New York edition, 1818. 
 
68 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 form of simple ideas, through the senses ; that by means of 
 its reflecting powers, in the use of capital thus received 
 and additions continually made through the senses, the 
 mind gradually rises to its highest attainments. His theory 
 is, then, briefly this, that all our knowledge is obtained by 
 " sensation and reflection." This theory, with some 
 modifications, is now generally received in Great Britain 
 and America. 
 
 WHAT LOCKE MEANS BY " IDEA." 
 
 It was supposed by the ancient philosophers, that as mind 
 is so unlike matter, the former can hold no intercourse with 
 the latter, without something between them acting as a kind 
 of mediator. Hence the notion of an image or species* 
 intervening between the organ of sense and the percipient 
 mind. The mind was not supposed to perceive the object 
 itself, but the image of it. This image was either innate, 
 and the mind was only excited to notice it, or it was first 
 introduced to the mind through the eye. The former was 
 the theory of Plato ; the latter of Locke. Neither pretends 
 to tell us exactly what it is, but all agree to make it some- 
 thing resembling its object ; as far removed from matter as 
 possible, and yet not exactly spirit : — since, if it were sup- 
 posed to be matter, on the one hand, or spirit, on the other, 
 it might as well be dispensed with. This something the 
 ancient schoolmen called a phantasm, notion, or species, 
 and Locke called it an idea. " It being that term," he 
 says, " which, I think, serves best to stand for whatsoever is 
 the object of the understanding when a man thinks, I have 
 used it to express whatever is meant by phantasm, notion, 
 species, or whatever it is which the mind can be employed 
 about in thinking." * It hence seems that Locke employed 
 the term in accommodation to the usage of the schools, and 
 whether he meant to endorse the then current speculations 
 respecting an intervening phantasm, or only used a term of 
 
 * Essay concerning Human Understanding, Vol. I, p. 28. New York 
 edition, 1818. 
 
ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 69 
 
 accommodation, meaning by idea what we do, is perhans. 
 doubtful.* 
 
 If any insist that he did countenance the notion of a lite- 
 ral image, they still need not reject what is true in the 
 teachings of the great philosopher, because associated with a 
 baseless speculation. This speculation he found in the 
 schools ; it was not originally his ; nor were his inquiries 
 directed to this point. It was the origin, existence, and 
 agency of the idea, not the matter of it, that engaged his 
 attention. That something, whatever it be, (and Locke did 
 not undertake to tell what it is) which we have in our minds 
 when we have what we call an idea of an object, is what he 
 undertakes to prove not innate. But the reader may be 
 curious to know something respecting the speculations of the 
 ancients on this subject. 
 
 VIEWS OF ARISTOTLE AND OTHERS. 
 
 " By Aristotle and the Peripatetics, the images presented 
 to our senses were called sensible species or forms; those 
 presented to the memory or imagination were called phan- 
 tasms ; and those presented to the intellect were called 
 intelligible species; and they thought, that there can be no 
 perception, no imagination, no intellection, without species 
 or phantasms. What the ancient philosophers called species, 
 sensible and intelligible, and phantasms, in later times, and 
 especially since the time of Des Cartes, came to be called 
 by the common name of ideas. 
 
 " The Cartesians divided our ideas into three classes, 
 those of sensation, of imagination, and of pure intellection. 
 Of the objects of sensation and imagination, they thought 
 the images are in the brain, but of objects that are incorpo- 
 real, the images are in the understanding, or pure intellect. 
 Locke, taking the word idea in the same sense as Des Cartes 
 had done before him, to signify whatever is meant by phan- 
 
 * Cousin seems, on this point, to have misapprehended Locke and done 
 him injustice. Fairly interpreted, Locke may he supposed to attach to 
 the term idea essentially the same meaning that philosophers of this day 
 do 5 hence the formidable artillery of Cousin is aimed at a man of straw. 
 See Cousin's Psychology. 
 
70 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 tasm, notion, or species, divides ideas into those of sensation 
 and those of reflection ; meaning by the first, the ideas of 
 all corporeal objects, whether perceived, remembered, or 
 imagined ; by the second, the ideas of the powers and 
 operations of our minds." * It should be observed, that both 
 the Platonists, who held to innate ideas, and the Peripate- 
 tics, who held that our ideas are obtained through the 
 organs of sense, agree in this, that material objects act on 
 the mind only through the medium of certain forms or 
 images representing them. 
 
 THE NEXT STEP. — MALEBRANCH. 
 
 Father Malebranch seems to have become somewhat more 
 refined and modern, in his explanation of the matter. " I 
 suppose," he says, " that every one will grant, that we per- 
 ceive not external objects immediately and of themselves. 
 "We see the sun, the stars, and an infinity of objects without 
 us ; and it is not at all likely that, upon such occasions, the 
 soul sallies out of the body, in order to be present to the 
 objects perceived. She sees them not, therefore, by them- 
 selves ; and the immediate object of the mind is not the 
 thing perceived, but something which is intimately united 
 to the soul ; and it is that which I call an idea : — so that, 
 by the word idea, I understand nothing else but that which 
 is nearest to the mind when we perceive any object. It 
 ought to be carefully observed, that, in order to the mind's 
 perceiving any object, it is absolutely necessary that the 
 idea of that object be actually present to it. Of this it is 
 not possible to doubt. The things which the soul perceives 
 are of two kinds. They are either in the soul, or they are 
 without the soul. Those that are in the soul, are its own 
 thoughts ; that is to say, all its different modifications, 
 [operations.] The soul has no need of ideas for perceiving 
 these things. But with regard to things without the soul, 
 we cannot perceive them but by means of ideas." f Here 
 the notion of intermediate forms, or images, is partly relin- 
 
 * Rcid's works, Vol. II., p. 135. Charlcstown edition, 1814. 
 t Recherche de la Verity p. 125. 
 
ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 71 
 
 quished, — relinquished as related to inward perceptions; 
 and it is further conceded, that by the idea of an external 
 object, nothing more is intended than that which is nearest 
 to the mind when an object is perceived. This, it will be 
 seen, is a considerable advance towards to the more simple 
 and satisfactory view which obtains at present. 
 
 THE PRESENT VIEW. — REID. 
 
 The theory of an image, intervening between the mind 
 and outward objects of perception, is now wholly discarded. 
 The mind is believed to be so constituted, as to hold direct 
 intercourse with the material world, through the senses. 
 That mankind should have been some thousands of years in 
 arriving at a fact so simple and obvious, can be accounted 
 for only by their excessive fondness for explaining every 
 thing, and their not having drawn the line of demarcation 
 around the limits of human knowledge. The writer who 
 has done most to brush away the cobwebs of the ancient 
 metaphysics, on this subject, is Thomas Held.* He pro- 
 poses no theory of perception in place of that which he 
 demolishes ; . — in the spirit of sound philosophy, he leaves 
 the inexplicable without attempting to explain it. 
 
 There is no need of supposing any image or phantasm 
 between the mind and the object without. All we know on 
 this subject is, that when objects are presented to our organs 
 of sense, certain effects or changes are produced in the 
 mind, whereupon the mind perceives them.t Some things 
 affect our senses which cannot be perceived. There may 
 be sensation without perception. Every true idea of an 
 object, then, instead of being an image or phantasm, by 
 means of which we perceive the object, or what the object 
 
 * Thomas Brown denies to Heid the honor of originality in this matter ; 
 but after considerable examination, I am satisfied that he was the first 
 to set the notion of an intervening image effectually aside. See Brown's 
 Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 256. — The theory of an intervening image, or 
 idea, was called " The Ideal System." 
 
 t See Inquiries concerning the Intellectual Powers, &c, by John Aber- 
 crombie. Boston edition, 1845. 
 
72 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 is like, is the result of perception. The ancient metaphy- 
 sicians put effect for cause. A man's perceiving an animal, 
 gives him a true idea of it ; — it is not his idea of it, that 
 enables him to 'perceive it. In other words, perception gives 
 the idea ; not idea the perception. This view sweeps en- 
 tirely away the supposed necessity for innate ideas. 
 
 PRESENT STATE 0E THE QUESTION RESPECTING THE 
 ORIGIN OE KNOWLEDGE. — LOCKE. 
 
 The question, Whether our knowledge originates through 
 the senses, is now considered of far less importance than it 
 was formerly ? * That all our knowledge is to be referred to 
 the senses, according to the extreme doctrine of the sensu- 
 ous philosophy, is a theory maintained by scarcely any of 
 the present day. Locke himself, the great advocate of the 
 sensuous philosophy, did not carry his doctrine to this ex- 
 treme. His own account of the matter reads thus : — 
 " The other fountain, from which experience furnisheth the 
 understanding with ideas, is the perception of the operations 
 of our own minds within us, as they are employed about the 
 ideas they have got ; which operations, when the soul comes 
 to reflect on and consider, do furnish the understanding 
 with another set of ideas, which could not be had from 
 things without ; and such are perception, thinking, doubt- 
 ing, believing, reasoning, knowing, willing, and all the differ- 
 ent actions of our own minds ; which we, being conscious of, 
 and observing in ourselves, do from these receive into our 
 understandings as distinct ideas, as we do from bodies 
 affecting our senses. This source of ideas every man has 
 wholly in himself; and though it be not sense, as having 
 nothing to do with external objects, yet it is very like it, 
 and might properly enough be termed internal sense. But 
 as I call the other sensation, so I call this reflection, the 
 ideas it affords being such only as the mind gets by reflect- 
 ing on its own operations within itself. By reflection, then, 
 in the following part of this discourse, I would be understood 
 
 * Sec Stuart's Philosophy, Book I, p. 61. 
 
ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 73 
 
 to mean, that notice which the mind takes of its own opera- 
 tions, and the manner of them ; by reason whereof there 
 come to be ideas of these operations in the understanding. 
 These two, I say, namely, external material things, as the 
 objects of sensation, and the operations of our own minds 
 within, as the objects of reflection, are to me the only 
 originals from whence all our ideas take their beginnings. 
 The term operations, here, I use in a large sense, as com- 
 prehending not barely the actions of the mind about its 
 ideas, but some sorts of passions, arising sometimes from 
 them ; such as is the satisfaction or uneasiness arising from 
 any thought." * 
 
 OPINIONS OF SUBSEQUENT WRITERS. 
 
 The theory of Locke, as thus explained, has been admit- 
 ted by subsequent philosophers of the Scotch and English 
 schools to this day. Thomas Held substantially admits it, 
 while he strenuously resists the theory of intermediate 
 images. t Dugald Stewart, although opposed to the 
 peculiar theory of causation and of ideal images, ascribed 
 by some to Locke, and a decided advocate for spiritual 
 efficiency independently of matter, yet yields the right to 
 Locke on this point. "The amount of the doctrine," he 
 says, " is nothing more than this ; that the first occasions on 
 which our various intellectual faculties are exercised, are 
 furnished by the impressions made on our organs of sense, 
 and, consequently, that without these impressions, it would 
 have been impossible for us to arrive at the knowledge of 
 our faculties. Agreeably to this explanation of the doc- 
 trine, it may undoubtedly be said with plausibility, and I am 
 inclined to believe with truth, that the occasions on which 
 all our notions are formed, are furnished either immediately 
 or ultimately by sense. But, if I am not much mistaken, 
 this is not the meaning which is commonly annexed to the 
 doctrine, either by its advocates or their opponents. One 
 
 * Essay. B. II, Chap. I., Sec. 4, p. 74. 
 
 t Keid's Works, Vol. II., pp. 211 and 345. Charlestown edition, 1814. 
 
 7 
 
74 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 thing at least is obvious, that, in this sense, it does not lead 
 to those consequences, which have interested one party of 
 philosophers in its defence, and another in its refutation." * 
 The " consequences " here referred to, are its claimed alli- 
 ance with materialism and tendencies to break down all dis- 
 tinction between men and brutes, excepting such as arises 
 from difference of animal organization. 
 
 Thomas Brown, who seems to find pleasure in dealing 
 severely, refusing much of the originality to Locke, usually 
 allowed him ; denying to Reid all the credit of overthrowing 
 the theory of ideal images, asserting that Des Cartes, Ar- 
 nauld, Le Clerc, Hobbs, and many others, meant and taught 
 much the same as he did, on this subject, and claiming to 
 set up a new theory of cause and effect, yet gives his full 
 assent to the doctrine of the sensuous origin of our first 
 knowledge.! To the same intent, Prof. Upham says, " Were 
 it not for impressions on the senses, which may be traced to 
 objects external to them, our mental capabilities, whatever 
 they may be, would in all probability have remained folded 
 up, and have never been redeemed from a state of fruitless 
 inaction. Hence, the process which is implied in the per- 
 ception of external things, or what is commonly termed by 
 Mr. Locke, sensation, may justly be considered the occasion, 
 or the introductory step to all our knowledge. \ 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 Having thus briefly surveyed the ancient and modern 
 theories, in regard to the origin of human knowledge, the 
 present writer may be allowed to state his own conclusion : — 
 The human mind is created without any innate ideas what- 
 ever. It bears no resemblance to things merely mechanical, 
 chemical, vegetable, or animal; and all analogies drawn 
 from them, to show the necessity of innate ideas, in order 
 to a future development of knowledge, are utterly futile. 
 The human mind is an intellectual being. A free, active, 
 
 * Stewart's Philosophy, Book I., pp. 61-62. Boston edition, 1818. 
 t See Brown's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 267. Hallowcll edition, 1842. 
 % Upham's Philosophy, p. 121. New York edition, 1846. 
 
ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 75 
 
 discerning spirit, it is created -without any knowledge, or 
 any ideas, but with ample powers and capacities to acquire 
 them. Human ideas are not created by God ; they are the 
 result of mental activity. As the mind is created, it has no 
 ideas ; the moment it acts, it begins to have them. As it 
 is first addressed through the senses, its first ideas are of 
 sensuous origin. By the agency of these, those powers are 
 awakened, by which the mind comes gradually into posses- 
 sion of other and higher ideas not derived from the senses. 
 Beginning with sensuous and accidental ideas, it gradually 
 ascends to the apprehension of spiritual, abstract, absolute, 
 essential truths. It rises from the less to the greater ; from 
 the lower to the higher ; from facts to principles. Hence, 
 the beginning of all true knowledge is in humility. 
 
 But while it is admitted that our first ideas reach the 
 mind through the organs of sense, it does not follow that 
 unembodied minds may not receive, in other ways, all those 
 ideas which we owe to sensation. Let us instance the case 
 of seeing. The condition of the mind in the body, may be 
 compared to that of a person in a dark prison. Confined in 
 that prison, from his birth, he could have no idea of colors. 
 Remove him from the prison, or let in a beam of light, and 
 his mind instantly perceives them. That window which 
 |dmits the light, may be compared to the eye. If the mind 
 were unembodied, the eye would be unnecessary. The 
 same may be true of all ideas received through the organs 
 of sense.* Unembodied spirits, and spirits disembodied 
 before the organs of sense have served, or when they have 
 been wanting, may be so constituted, for ought we know, 
 as to receive all kinds of knowledge, in a manner entirely 
 independent of the body. 
 
 DIFFERENT KINDS OF IDEAS. — COGNITION. 
 
 It is obvious that mere ideas are not tantamount to knoivl- 
 edge. An idea may be inadequate, confused, false, as well 
 
 * " If we could suppose the case of a man who had lived all his life in 
 the dark, he certainly could not see, but we should not say that the 
 admission of light imparted to him the power of vision ; it only furnished 
 
76 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 as adequate, clear, and true.* There is, indeed, a sense 
 in which every idea is real. When a man is conscious of 
 entertaining an idea, he actually does entertain that idea. 
 His consciousness does not deceive him. But if the 
 idea is inadequate, — that is, if the type does not cor- 
 respond to the anti-type, — it is properly called a false 
 idea. When an idea is liable to be inadequate, or false, it is 
 synonymous with opinion, notion, conjecture. When the 
 idea is supposed to be exactly true, it is called cognition or 
 knowledge. Idea may imply doubt, cognition implies com- 
 plete conviction. Hence, idea is a more generic term than 
 cognition. Idea stands for every thing in the mind, how- 
 ever doubtful its object ; whereas cognition is restricted to 
 what is known. The reader is particularly requested to 
 notice this distinction, as it will be hereafter referred to, in 
 an important connection. 
 
 Simple and complex ideas. 
 
 Another division of ideas is into simple and complex. 
 Simple ideas imply a single sensation or perception. Thus, 
 the idea of pain, quiet, fatigue ; 'of hardness, softness, round- 
 ness ; of sweet, sour, bitter ; of length, breadth, height, &C* 
 is a simple idea. All sensuous ideas, as they first enter 
 the mind, are simple, and the mind is passive in receiving 
 them.f ^ These are cognitions. We all agree to rely upon 
 the testimony of our senses ; — what they teach us, we think 
 we know. If the ideas that I get of sweet, sour, bitter, are 
 by tasting them; of black, blue, red, are by seeing them; 
 of length, breadth, height, are by feeling them, &c, those 
 ideas are cognitions, — they are actual knowledge. 
 
 When simple ideas are contemplated as united in an 
 object, they make a complex idea. It is hence obvious that 
 
 the circumstances which gave occasion to the exercise of sight." Aber- 
 
 crombie's Inquiries concerning the Intellectual Powers, p. 38. Boston edition, 
 184.). 
 
 * See Locke's Essay concerning Human Understanding, Book II, 
 p. 261-284. N. Y. edition, 1814. 
 
 t Locke's Essay, Book II., p. 113. 
 
ORIGIN OF HUMAN KNOWLEDGE. 77 
 
 all abstract ideas are simple, while concrete ideas may be 
 either simple or complex, according as the object is viewed 
 only as a unit, or as consisting of its parts or properties. 
 The idea of a tree, considered as a unit, is a simple idea ; 
 but when the tree is contemplated with reference to the 
 various parts, and properties, the idea becomes complex. 
 When I look upon a tree, the idea of it first enters my 
 mind as a simple idea: — subsequent analysis renders it 
 complex. By analyzing the tree, I get many ideas out of 
 one ; — I recombine them, and now the idea of the tree 
 enters my mind complex. To the common mind, water is a 
 simple idea. The object it denotes was for ages considered 
 an element, even by men of science. To the chemist, who 
 has analyzed and recombined its elements, it is now a com- 
 plex idea. Hence, ideas may be either absolutely or rela- 
 tively simple.* The mind not only analyzes relatively sim- 
 ple ideas into those absolutely simple, but it also combines 
 absolutely simple ideas, received at first as such, into com- 
 plex ones. There are, then, two ways which the mind 
 takes with its simple ideas, received by sensation and reflec- 
 tion, — first, the way of analysis, by which it resolves its 
 relatively simple ideas into those absolutely simple ; second- 
 ly, the way of synthesis, by which it combines its absolutely 
 simple ideas into complex ones. Some philosophers would 
 make the mind go only from generals to particulars ; t 
 
 * I use the terms absolutely and relatively, merely for convenience. They 
 must not be understood in the severest sense. In the present state of 
 science, we do not always know what is really absolute. What one man 
 supposes absolutely simple, another may know to be complex. The point 
 most important here is this, — that simple ideas, received by sensation 
 and reflection, are the mind's first ideas, — that all these are real cognitions, 
 and that they are the materials or basis of all our future knowledge. 
 " These simple ideas, the materials of all our knowledge, are suggested 
 and furnished to the mind only by those two ways, namely, sensation and 
 reflection" — Locke's Essay, Vol. II., p. 83. 
 
 t " It is not true that we begin by simple ideas, and then proceed to com- 
 plex ideas. On the contrary, we begin with complex ideas, and from 
 them proceed to more simple. The process of the mind, in the acquisition 
 of ideas, is precisely the inverse of that which Locke assigns." — Cousin. 
 See his Elements of Psychology, New York edition, 1838, p. 176. If Locke 
 and some of his disciples have gone to one extreme, have not Cousin 
 and his disciples gone to another ? 
 
 7* 
 
78 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 others would make it go only from particulars to generals. 
 Both are wrong ; for the mind goes both ways. 
 
 The apology for dwelling so long on a speculative, and, 
 to most, uninteresting question, respecting the origin of our 
 knowledge, is in the fact that it has occupied a very large 
 space in philosophical disquisitions, and that ultra theorists, 
 on each side, have pushed into infidelity. It is of the first 
 moment in philosophy to start right ; and, however dry the 
 discussion of a fundamental principle, it is of the highest 
 importance to the superstructure. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER VI. 
 
 What has been the great question of the schools ? Who were the 
 special advocates for the theory of innate ideas ? Who for the opinion 
 that all our ideas are acquired ? State the theory of innate ideas. The 
 comparison here made. Reply to it. The theory of Locke. What was 
 supposed by the ancients ? What is said of the image to which they held ? 
 What does Locke call it 1 What is said of the views of Aristotle and the 
 Peripatetics ? Those of Malebranch ? What is now thought of the 
 theory of an intervening image ? How is the mind believed to be consti- 
 tuted ? What is said of the credit due to Reid ? How much do we know 
 on this subject 1 What is said of the ancient metaphysicians 1 Remark. 
 What is said of the extreme doctrine of the sensuous philosophy 1 What 
 other writers, besides Locke, have rejected the theory of innate ideas ? 
 In conclusion, how is the human mind supposed to be created ? To what 
 does it bear no resemblance ? What is said of human ideas ? How soon 
 does the mind begin to have ideas % Of what origin are its first ideas 1 
 To what does it gradually ascend ? What is said of unembodied minds ? 
 Illustration. Are mere ideas tantamount to knowledge ? What may be 
 the character of an idea ? In what sense is every idea true ? When 
 is an idea properly called false ? When liable to be so, with what is it 
 synonymous ? What is an idea called when supposed true ? What may 
 idea imply ? What does cognition imply ? Inference. What do simple 
 ideas imply ? Examples. Why are these cognitions ? What is a com- 
 plex idea ? What are all abstract ideas ? When are concrete ideas com- 
 plex ? When simple ? Illustrate. How many ways does the mind take 
 with its simple ideas'? Explain each. What apology for dwelling so 
 long on this question ? 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 PEBIARY KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 The distinction frequently made by the terms original 
 and acquired knowledge, is here indicated by the terms 
 primary and secondary. The reason is, that I consider all 
 knowledge acquired. To speak of original knowledge, 
 savors of the theory of innate ideas. By primary knowledge, 
 I mean that which the mind has first. It is that which we 
 obtain without any reasoning process. It is received in the 
 form of simple and direct cognitions. 
 
 PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE OF TWO KINDS. 
 
 This knowledge is of two kinds, sensuous and rational. 
 Sensuous knowledge, is that which we obtain by the senses; 
 our primary rational knowledge, is that which we obtain by 
 direct intuition and consciousness. 
 
 Sensuous knowledge precedes rational. Constituted as 
 we are, but for the agency of the senses we have no evi- 
 dence that intuition and consciousness would ever teach us 
 any thing. Hence all our knowledge may be said to origi- 
 nate in sensation. 
 
 The distinction between mere ideas and knowledge, has 
 been previously made. This must be kept in mind. We 
 are now treating of the origin of knowledge, not mere ideas. 
 It is only ideas of & particular class, that imply knowledge : 
 — These are the ideas which relate to entities, — that is, to 
 things known actually to exist. In other words, they are 
 cognitions. When I feel a pain, or smell a rose, or see an 
 
80 . INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 animal ; or when I am conscious of loving, or perceive the 
 truth of an axiom, I not only have ideas respecting these 
 things, but I know them. The pain, the odor, the animal, 
 the mental affection, the axiom, become to me subjects of 
 actual knowledge. An opinion, a conjecture, a suggestion, 
 is a mere idea ; it does not amount to knowledge : — but all 
 ideas obtained by sensation, and by direct intuition and con- 
 sciousness, are actual cognitions, and constitute our prima- 
 ry KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 THE SENSES. 
 
 The senses are mental, the organs of the senses are cor- 
 poreal. The senses are no less truly mental powers* than 
 perception, abstraction, &c, although they operate more di- 
 rectly through the physical organs. They are usually classed 
 as follows : — 
 
 I. The Sense of Smell. 
 
 II. The Sense of Taste. 
 
 III. The Sense of Hearing. 
 
 IV. The Sense of Touch. 
 
 Y. The Sense of Sight. 
 
 But there are senses which cannot be consistently classed 
 with either of these. And for reasons which will hereafter 
 appear, the following list is added : — 
 
 I. The Sense of Temperament. 
 
 II. The Sense of Weariness and Fatigue. 
 
 III. The Sense of Pleasure and Pain. 
 
 IV. The Sense of Appetite. 
 
 Some objects make themselves known to us only by one 
 of the senses ; hence, if the organ of that sense is wanting, 
 the mind remains in ignorance of those objects. Other ob- 
 jects address us by two, three, or even four senses, at once. 
 Generally, those things most important to be known, ad- 
 
 * Most writers use the terms power and susceptibility as nearly synony- 
 mous : — but the former has more particular reference to its consequent, or, 
 effect ; the latter, to its antecedent, or, cause. 
 
PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 81 
 
 dress us by the greatest number of senses ; so that, in the 
 event of the failure of some of them, others may serve. 
 
 I. THE SENSE OF SMELL. 
 
 The organ of this sense is what physiologists call the ol- 
 factory nerve. It is situated in the nostrils and surrounding 
 cells. It is in the place most favorable for the discharge of 
 its office. Lying in cells at the bottom of cavities opening 
 just above the mouth, it not only enables us to enjoy the 
 odor along with the flavor of objects entering the mouth, but 
 acts as a sentinel, to warn off or invite objects suitable or 
 unsuitable to enter. It is an organ spread over considerable 
 surface, and acting with every variety of acuteness and 
 energy in different persons. 
 
 THIS SENSE OFTEN DEFECTIVE. 
 
 This is on the whole the least important of the senses, and 
 perhaps more persons are destitute of it, or have it in an 
 imperfect degree, than any of the others. The reasons why 
 we are not better informed of the numerous instances in 
 which this sense is wanting or defective, are to be found in 
 the reluctance of most persons to expose a defect which it 
 only requires silence to conceal, and in the fact that many, 
 in whom this sense is defective, are not themselves aware of 
 it. The action of this sense is suspended by slighter causes 
 than that of any of the other senses. Even a common cold 
 will often so derange it, that it cannot discriminate between 
 the most opposite odors. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE OF ODORS ONLY BY THE SENSE OF SMELL. 
 
 It is only by this sense, that we obtain a knowledge of 
 odors. From the surface of all bodies, there is perpetually 
 emanating minute odoriferous particles. When we inhale 
 through the nose, these are drawn into the nostrils, and deposit- 
 
82 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ed on the surface of the olfactory nerve. Instantly there- 
 upon arises the sensation of smell. Odors are of endless va- 
 rieties, yet both science and common parlance have been 
 very parsimonious in the gift of names to designate them. 
 We only apply to them a few general terms, such as spicy, 
 sweet, agreeable, delicious, sour, offensive, &c. To a man 
 whose olfactory nerve is paralyzed, all objects smell alike ; 
 — or rather, they have no smell at all. 
 
 THE VARIETIES OF ODOR VERY GREAT. 
 
 Although the sense of smell is the least important, yet, 
 in common with the other senses, it has a wide field, and is 
 competent to explore it with a wonderful discrimination. A 
 dealer in wines said he had handled more than ten thousand 
 different qualities, each of which had an odor peculiar to 
 itself. A person of very discriminating smell, said, that he 
 had never found two roses, even on the same bush, that had 
 precisely the same odor. It is often remarked, with some 
 truth, that no two things look precisely alike ; — it is equally 
 true, that no two things smell precisely alike. There is 
 more reason for the differences in the latter than in the 
 former case ; since the invisible effluvia emanating from bodies 
 may assume greater varieties of combination, than the more 
 gross substances, which are obvious to the eye. The truth 
 is, the sense of smell is perpetually treating us with an in- 
 finitude of odors, which we scarcely pause to notice. Let 
 any person who has always enjoyed this sense, be suddenly de- 
 prived of it, and he will be convinced, that although it yields 
 the palm to the other senses, in parting with it, he has lost 
 an important measure of life's enjoyment. 
 
 II. THE SENSE OF TASTE. 
 
 The nervous papilla? spread over the surface of the tongue 
 and various parts of the mouth, constitute the organ of taste. 
 In order that the sense may act, the body presented must be 
 moist, so that the papillae may absorb a portion of it. For 
 
PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 83 
 
 this purpose, the mouth is provided with salivary glands, 
 which act, when a body is received into it, to furnish it with 
 moisture. The more desirable the object, the more vigorous- 
 ly do these glands act. They commence acting as soon as 
 the object is anticipated, to prepare the organs to receive it. 
 Hence, it is a common saying, that the thought of things 
 delicious " makes the mouth water." 
 
 Other purposes are answered by the saliva, of which this 
 is not the place to speak. So soon as the particles of the 
 sapient body come in contact with the nervous papillse, we 
 are conscious of the sensation of taste. Tastes are sweet, 
 Utter, sour, pleasant, agreeable, disagreeable, £c. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE OF FLAVORS OBTAINED ONLY BY THE TASTE. 
 
 As the sense of smell is usually considered a modification 
 of that of taste, it has been supposed that by the former 
 alone one may learn, with considerable accuracy, the flavor 
 of objects. This supposition is strengthened by the fact, 
 that persons can usually tell, merely by smelling of an object, 
 whether it is sweet,- sour, bitter, agreeable, or disagreeable 
 to the taste. But a little attention may convince us, that 
 this is the effect of association. It is because we have formed 
 the habit of associating certain odors with certain flavors, 
 that we are often enabled to judge of the one by the other. 
 A person deprived of the sense of taste from his birth, could 
 never by the smell tell how an object would taste. But hav- 
 ing both smelt and tasted the same object, and thus having 
 learned to associate the taste with the smell, the one hence- 
 forth suggests the other. A person never favored with the 
 sense of taste, could not form any idea of the flavor of a 
 rose, merely by smelling it. 
 
 OR TASTE. 
 
 A sweet or sour smell is very different from a sweet or 
 sour taste. 
 
84 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 When we speak of a thing as smelling sour, we convey 
 the idea of something disagreeable, injured, offensive. But 
 many things that taste sour, are in the highest state of per- 
 fection and deliciousness. Many things that smell sour, are 
 sweet to the taste ; and many things that smell sweet, are sour 
 to the taste. The same thing may have a sour flavor, and a 
 sweet odor. A lemon has a sour flavor, but its odor is highly 
 sweet and delicious. 
 
 Nor is this merely because the nostrils receive a greater 
 proportion of the volatile aroma, than the mouth. The 
 nervous papilla of the mouth cannot discriminate the aroma, 
 as the pituitary membrane of the nose can ; neither can the 
 organ of smell appreciate the acid, as the organ of taste can. 
 The fact is, there is something peculiar to each sense, by 
 which it receives an idea wholly its own. * 
 
 THE TERMS APPLIED FIGURATIVELY. 
 
 On account of the poverty of language, we apply many of 
 the same terms to the ideas communicated by these two 
 senses. Common observation, however, leads us to discrimi- 
 nate in the use of them. The terms siveet, sour, bitter, be- 
 long primarily to the taste, and are applied to the smell only 
 in a secondary and figurative sense. We seldom speak of a 
 bitter smell ; and when we do, we convey the idea of some- 
 thing offensive. But things bitter to the taste, are often 
 delicious. Not only the drinker, who loves his " bitters," 
 but the epicure, would hardly consent to relinquish all bitter 
 tastes. It is hence manifest that the sense of smell cannot 
 teach us the taste of objects ; — and if this sense cannot, 
 certainly neither of the others can. 
 
 * " What is the generical distinction ? Is it only that the nose is the 
 organ of the one and the palate of the other % or, abstracting from the 
 organ, is there not in the sensations themselves something common to 
 smells, and something else common to tastes, whereby the one is distin- 
 guished from the other ? It seems most probable that the latter is the 
 case." Iteid's Phil., Vol. I., p. 218. 
 
PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 85 
 
 THE SENSE OF TASTE SELDOM WANTING. 
 
 Next to the sense of feeling, none is so seldom wanting as 
 that of taste. Indeed, it is believed that there never was a 
 human being entirely destitute, from birth to manhood, of 
 this sense. It is possessed in endless degrees and varieties 
 by different persons, but all have it to some extent. This is 
 a striking instance of the Creator's beneficent care; since, 
 without this sense, even the taking of our needful nourish- 
 ment would not only be attended with no pleasure, but would 
 be through life a most odious and disgusting task. Persons 
 are sometimes in a measure deprived of the use of this sense 
 for a short season, during a fever, or some affection of the 
 gustatory organs, which arrests the healthful action of the 
 salivary glands, or spreads a coat over the papillae : — the 
 loss of enjoyment, yea, the positive suffering, resulting from 
 the short interruption of this sense, reminds us how great 
 must be the loss, to be forever deprived of it. 
 
 NUMEROUS VARIETIES OF FLAVORS. 
 
 The amount as well as importance of the service per- 
 formed by this sense, is more apparent, if we consider the 
 endless varieties of flavors. It is somewhere said of a cele- 
 brated cook, who had been in service fifty years, and had 
 prepared on an average fifty dishes a clay, that he never 
 made two dishes of precisely the same flavor. We have no 
 reason to doubt the remark. Here are two thousand 
 five hundred different flavors, furnished by only one person. 
 What then must be the number of flavors furnished by all the 
 cooks that ever lived ! — and what the number furnished from 
 the great kingdom of nature, in all the endless departments 
 of the animal and vegetable creations ! If the term infinite 
 may ever be applied to what is finite, it surely may be here. 
 
 8 
 
86 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 THE TASTE COMPETENT TO ALL THESE VARIETIES. 
 
 But it may be said, that although the varieties of flavor 
 are endless, our sense of taste is adequate only to a few of 
 them. How then did we ascertain their existence ? The 
 fact that we know their existence, is proof that our taste has 
 detected them ; for we could have become acquainted with 
 them in no other way. The Being who made the flavors for 
 the taste, has adapted the taste to the flavors. There is no 
 mistake, no blunder of calculation, in his work. No person 
 has ever fully tested the capacities of the sense of taste. 
 " The sensations both of smell and taste do undoubtedly ad- 
 mit of an immense variety of modifications, which no lan- 
 guage can express. If a man was to examine five hundred 
 different wines, he would hardly find two of them that had 
 precisely the same taste ; the same thing holds in cheese, 
 and in many other things. Yet of five hundred different 
 tastes in cheese or wine, we can hardly describe twenty, so 
 as to give a distinct notion of them to one who has not tasted 
 them." * 
 
 Now if our sense of taste can detect five hundred varieties 
 in a single kind, what must we say of it, as employed upon 
 all kinds of things, and all their possible combinations ? The 
 truth is, our sense of taste is constantly employed upon myr- 
 iads of flavors, and yielding us their enjoyment, for which 
 we have no names, and of which we do not pause to think. 
 
 HI. THE SENSE OF HEARING. 
 
 The organ of this sense is the ear. There are two appa- 
 ratuses for the service of this sense, as there are also for the 
 sight and smell ; that in case the one fails, the other may 
 serve. The ear, like the other organs of sense, is situated 
 in the place most favorable for discharging its office. 
 Standing, as a watch at his post, on either side of the 
 
 *Reid's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 219. 
 
PKIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 87 
 
 head, it receives the vibrations of the air from all directions 
 and conveys them to the auditory nerves. The external ear 
 presents a large hollow surface, leading through gentle wind- 
 ings, carefully adapted to transmit the atmospheric undula- 
 tions. These at last beat upon the drum or tympanum, at 
 the bottom of the ear. The tympanum is a thin membrane, 
 drawn over the orifice leading inward, after the manner of 
 the skin or head of a drum. On the inside of this is spread 
 out a delicate mesh of nerves, communicating with the sen- 
 sorium. So soon as the vibrating atmosphere beats upon 
 this drum, there arises in the mind the sensation of hearing. 
 
 THE KNOWLEDGE OF SOUNDS WHOLLY DUE TO THIS SENSE. 
 
 A person deaf from his birth can have no knowledge of 
 sounds. The sense of touch is auxiliary to that of hearing, 
 but cannot specifically supply its place. It has been said 
 above, that sound is produced by certain vibratory motions 
 of the air acting upon the drum of the ear. Musical vibra- 
 tions, as of the harp, viol, flute, organ, can be recognised by 
 the hand. In the case of heavy tones, as of the organ, they 
 can be felt through our feet and our whole frame. A deaf 
 person may thus tell when fine and when coarse vibrations 
 are produced, and even when chords and discords are 
 made. 
 
 But this does not amount to a knowledge of the sounds. 
 The vibrations are one thing ; the sounds another. A knowl- 
 edge of the former, does not imply a knowledge of the latter. 
 Harmonious and discordant vibrations, as well as fine and 
 coarse ones, produce their appropriate effects on the general 
 sense of feeling. They are felt, not heard ; and there is the 
 same difference here, as between feeling the raised alphabet 
 and hearing the words spoken. 
 
 OBJECTION TO THIS VIEW. 
 
 It is objected to this view, that " deaf* persons not only 
 
 =* This objection was copied from some author, but the reference waa 
 accidentally omitted, and I cannot at this moment identify its paternity. 
 
88 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 tell where sounds are made, and discriminate nicely between 
 chords and discords, but they actually receive exquisite 
 pleasure and pain therefrom, which could not be, unless they 
 have some perception of them." The inference is inevita- 
 ble, if the premise be granted. But it is not granted. The 
 deaf persons in question do not discriminate between those 
 sounds, which we denominate chords and discords. It is 
 only between the vibrations, which, to those who have the 
 sense of hearing, produce chords and discords, that they 
 discriminate, and from these that " they actually receive ex- 
 quisite pleasure and pain." 
 
 The sense of feeling is implied in that of hearing, and the 
 one has by some been regarded as a modification of the other. 
 In this view, hearing is a kind of inward feeling. Hence, 
 certain vibratory motions — ■ such as produce chords — felt 
 through the frame, may give feelings of pleasure ; and cer- 
 tain other vibratory motions — such as produce discords — 
 felt through the frame, may give feelings of pain, — such 
 feelings as are occasioned by chordant and discordant sounds. 
 Hence, deaf persons may have exquisite pleasure from those 
 vibrations which produce harmonious sounds, and pain from 
 those which produce discords, and yet have no knowledge of 
 the sounds themselves. There is no sense but that whose 
 organ is located in the drum of the ear, that can convey to 
 the mind a specific knowledge of sound. 
 
 THIS VIEW SUSTAINED BY FACTS. 
 
 We have evidence sustaining the view here taken, in the 
 case of persons deaf from their birth, to whom hearing 
 has been restored. Mention is made in a German Medical 
 work, unfortunately not at hand, of the case of a deaf child 
 twelve years old, to whom hearing was restored by the 
 removal of obstructions in the ear. The lively pleasure and 
 pain which she felt at the performance of good and bad 
 music, and the nice discriminations she made between chords 
 and discords, induced herself and others to suppose, that 
 she had the same perception of sounds in common with her 
 more favored friends. Being educated, she wrote about 
 
PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 89 
 
 musical sounds, chords and discords, good and bad musical 
 performances, as things of which she knew as much as 
 others. But when hearing was restored to her, she asserted 
 that she had never before had any thing like a true idea of 
 sounds. She had had an idea of them, but not a true idea ; 
 not a knowledge of them. Other similar instances are on 
 record. 
 
 ONLY KNOWLEDGE OF SOUNDS BY THIS SENSE. 
 
 The only office which the ear can claim, is that of being 
 a vehicle of sounds. All other sensuous knowledge comes 
 through one or more of the other senses. It would seem, 
 from this, that the sense in question is not very important ; 
 — and indeed, it may better be dispensed with, than some of 
 the others. Still its office will not appear insignificant, if 
 we consider the great number and variety of sounds, of 
 which the ear is the organ, and their vast importance to the 
 improvement and happiness of mankind. 
 
 NUMBER AND VARIETY OF SOUNDS. 
 
 The following remarks are so much to my purpose, that I 
 am induced to insert them at length. " The ear is capable 
 of perceiving four or five hundred variations of tone in sound, 
 and probably as many different degrees of strength ; by com- 
 bining these, we have above twenty thousand simple sounds, 
 that differ either in tone or strength, supposing every one to 
 be perfect. But it is to be observed, that to make a perfect 
 tone, a great many undulations of elastic air are required, 
 which must all be of equal duration and extent, and follow 
 one another with perfect regularity ; and each undulation 
 must be made up of the advance and recoil of innumerable 
 particles of elastic air, whose motions are all uniform in di- 
 rection, force, and time. Hence, we may easily conceive a 
 prodigious variety on the same tone, arising from irregulari- 
 ties of it, occasioned by the constitution, figure, situation^ or 
 manner of striking the sonorous body ; from the constitution 
 8* 
 
90 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of the elastic medium, or its being disturbed by other mo- 
 tions ; and from the constitution of the ear itself upon which 
 the impression is made." 
 
 " A flute, a violin, a hautboy, and a French horn, may all 
 sound the same tone, and be easily distinguishable. Nay, if 
 twenty human voices sound the same note and with equal 
 strength, there will be some difference. The same voice, 
 while it retains its proper distinctions, may yet be varied 
 many ways, by sickness or health, youth or age, leanness or 
 fatness, good or bad humor. The same words spoken by 
 foreigners and natives, nay, by persons of different provinces 
 of the same nation, may be distinguished." * 
 
 A certain writer on ornithology, speaks of a single bird, 
 that gives utterance to more than two hundred distinct modu- 
 lations. Now when we think of the myriad voices filling 
 the air around us, each of which has its own peculiarities, 
 and its almost endless varieties of tone, all of which become 
 such to the mind by the sense of hearing, the office of that 
 sense appears no sinecure. 
 
 ENDLESS VARIETY OF HUMAN TONES. 
 
 Every human being has a tone peculiar to himself, as is 
 evident by his being known by his voice. Even though he 
 speak or sing on the same hey with another, yet his voice is 
 different. Now if each individual of the eight hundred mil- 
 lions of human beings, could only raise the eight notes, we 
 should have sixty-four hundred millions of tones, of all which 
 the ear is competent to take cognizance. The varieties of 
 sound f in the human language, as read and spoken by man- 
 kind, baffle all enumeration. 
 
 In some respects, the sense of hearing seems to bring us 
 nearer the spirit-world, than either of the others. So refined 
 and elevated are the charms of music, that divine inspira- 
 tion has through it largely symbolized the enjoyments of the 
 heavenly state. 
 
 * Rcid's Works, Vol. I, p. 220. 
 . J. Thc terms sound, tone, modulation, arc of course here used merely to 
 indicate those atmospheric vibrations, which, to those who have the sense 
 or hearing, occasion or produce sound. 
 
QUESTIONS. 91 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER VII. 
 
 What is the distinction between primary and acquired knowledge 1 ? 
 How many kinds of primary knowledge } Define each. What is the 
 origin of all our knowledge ? Repeat the distinction between mere ideas 
 and knowledge. What are entities ? Illustrations. What are cognitions ? 
 To which do the senses pertain, the mind or the body ? Name the senses, 
 as usually classed. What senses are here added % What is said of objects 
 being recognized by one or more senses 1 What is the first sense noticed ? 
 Its organ 1 Describe it. What is said of the frequent defectiveness and 
 relative importance of this sense ? What knowledge is obtained only by 
 this sense ? What is said of odors ? Their varieties % Illustrations ? 
 Define the organ of Taste. What is necessary in order that the organ may 
 act 1 What provision for this purpose ? What are the qualities of taste 1 
 What knowledge is obtained only by taste 1 What is said on this point ? 
 What illustrations of terms having different meanings, as applied to smell 
 or taste ? Is the sense of smell often wanting ? What is mentioned as a 
 striking instance of the Creator's care 1 What is said of the varieties of 
 flavors'? Of the competency of taste to recognize them ? Illustrations'? 
 What is the organ of Hearing ? Describe. What knowledge is wholly 
 due to this sense % How is it shown that a knowledge of sounds cannot 
 be obtained by the sense of touch 1 ? Objections to this view? How 
 answered % What facts sustain it % How many offices does the ear per- 
 form ? What is said of the number and variety of sounds % Of human 
 tones ? In what respect does the sense of hearing seem to bring us near 
 the spirit-world % 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 IV. THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 
 
 The organ of this sense is extended over the entire sur- 
 face of the nervous system. In this respect it differs from 
 the senses hitherto noticed, whose organs are restricted to a 
 small compass. It not only spreads over the outer surface 
 of the body, but it is, to some extent, diffused over the 
 internal cavities, particularly those of the mouth, ears, nos- 
 trils. But physiologists assign its most special seat to the 
 hand, on account of the peculiar adaptation of its form, 
 joints, flexibility, and delicate nerves, to the purpose of 
 touching. The fingers are by far the most discriminating 
 and important organs of touch. 
 
 THIS SENSE NOT IDENTICAL WITH THAT OF TEMPERATURE. 
 
 It seems to me that the philosophy of Reid and Brown, 
 on this point, is incorrect.* They identify the sense of 
 touch with that of temperature. Now, is there not as much 
 difference between the touch and the temperature of an 
 apple, as between the taste and the temperature of it ? We 
 do not touch heat and cold. We touch bodies which have 
 heat and cold ; it is only the bodies that we touch; — the 
 heat and cold we feel. True, we feel when we touch ; and 
 so we feel when we taste. But yet, feeling and tasting are 
 not the same. The way in which Reid came to make the 
 mistake was probably this : When we touch a body, we not 
 only have the sensation of touch, but also that of heat or 
 
 * Reid's Works, Vol. I., p. 226. Brown's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 212. 
 Prof. Upham copies from Reid, and adopts his error. 
 
THE SENSE OF TOUCH. 93 
 
 cold, if the body is in a state to produce it. This led him 
 to refer the latter sensation to touch ; especially as in his 
 analysis he had no other sense to which to refer it. Brown 
 seems to have adopted Reid's analysis, without stopping to 
 inquire whether it was correct. 
 
 We may with as much propriety speak of tasting heat, 
 as of touching it : — our sense of temperature is as specific 
 and marked as our sense of taste, and both equally distinct 
 from that of touch. The sensation of feeling is generic ; — 
 it does not pertain exclusively to any one sense.* We feel, 
 when we taste, when we touch, when we smell, when we 
 see. The sensation of feeling, like life itself, is all pervad- 
 ing. It of course relates to touch, as well as to the other 
 senses. But we may have the sensation of touch without 
 that of temperature ; so also we may have the sensation of 
 temperature, without that of touch. These may be entirely 
 distinct. I hence infer distinct senses. 
 
 RESISTANCE LEARNED BY TOUCH. 
 
 The first idea obtained by touch is that of resistance. 
 We thus learn that there is really something ivithout us. 
 The eye could not of itself teach us this ; since it is only as 
 assured by the touch, we can be certain that what appears 
 to the eye is not illusive. One of the first movements of 
 the infant in pursuit of knowledge, is to thrust out his hand 
 to what he sees, to ascertain whether or not it is a material 
 
 * Eeid endeavors to clear his way, by reference to primary and second- 
 ary qualities of matter. This distinction was first held by Democritus, Epi- 
 curus, and their followers. Aristotle, and all the pupils of the Peripatetic 
 school, discarded it. It was again revived by Des Cartes, Malebranch, 
 and Locke. The Bishop of Cloyne again abolished it; — Keid called it 
 again from its ashes, declaring that it had a foundation in the principles of 
 our nature. 
 
 The primary qualities of matter are such as are essential to its exist- 
 ence, such as extension, gravity, &c. The secondary qualities are acci- 
 dental, such as temperature, taste, &c. It is merely the distinction be- 
 tween the essential and the accidental. But we have specific senses to teach 
 us the accidental, as well as the essential, properties of matter: — for in- 
 stance, those of taste and smell. Hence, to dispense with the sense of 
 temperament, because we feel when we touch, and because heat and cold 
 are subjects of feeling, is unphilosophical. 
 
94 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 object. The touch satisfies him ; — he is then no longer in 
 doubt. 
 
 Something more than mere contact is necessary, to pro- 
 duce the sensation of touch. Sensations of temperature, of 
 taste, of smell, &c, maybe produced by mere contact ; but 
 sensations of touch imply resistance. Moderate pressure, 
 united with gentle motion, affords the most accurate sensa- 
 tion of touch. 
 
 Not only does the touch teach us that there is an external 
 world,* but also the exact size, form, and distance, of its 
 various objects. The eye is pupil to the hand, until the 
 hand has taught it to measure ; — it then learns with vastly 
 more rapidity, but never with so much accuracy, as its 
 teacher. The sense of touch enables us to correct any mis- 
 conceptions by that of sight. After the eye has been 
 taught, it measures the height, length, breadth, of an object, 
 at a glance ; — but it is not until the slower process of meas- 
 urement by the touch, has been made, that we are sure of 
 its precise accuracy. An object seems to the eye near or 
 distant ; but we must ultimately depend on the touch, to 
 tell exactly how near or distant it is. A blind person can 
 perform all measurements of accessible objects, with perfect 
 accuracy, by the sense of touch ; but without this sense, a 
 man with the best of eyes could not do it.f 
 
 The same is true of forms. The eye guesses ; the touch 
 knows, whether an object is square, angular, round, rough, 
 or smooth. 
 
 * It is not meant here, that infant children have to experiment with 
 the hand, before they know there is an external world. They have proof 
 enough of this, by other modes of touch, to which they are subject, before 
 they are able to perform such experiments. "What is meant, is simply 
 this : — it is only as objects without us are actually touched by us, in some 
 manner and at some period, that we come to the knowledge of an external 
 world. Yet Reid doubts whether we come by this knowledge thus, because 
 we have it at so early a period! We should like to ask him, how old the 
 infant is, before it touches any thing. See Rcid's Works, Vol. I., p. 243-5. 
 
 t Reid, [Vol. I., p. 241,] supposes the case of a blind man, with all his 
 limbs tied, experimented upon by the prick of a pin, then by a blunter 
 
THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 95 
 
 HARDNESS AND SOFTNESS LEARNED BY TOUCH. 
 
 Hardness and softness are relative terms, about which 
 philosophers speculate ; — we are only concerned with their 
 obvious import. Taught by the hand to regard certain objects 
 as soft, the eye may ordinarily decide upon them, but it is 
 sometimes deceived. Induced by the eye to suppose the 
 golden orange mellow, the eager man puts forth his hand 
 to grasp it, when it is proved to be made of rock. As he 
 is walking in the silvery light of the moon, his eye tells him 
 that the smooth surface before him is rock ; — he plants his 
 foot boldly down, and is up to his knees in mud. So much 
 for trusting his eye. Had he first touched, he would have 
 prevented the disaster. 
 
 The pressure and motion being given, the hardness of a 
 body is in proportion to its resistance. The greater the 
 resistance, the greater the hardness. We thus learn the 
 precise hardness or softness of all bodies subjected to this 
 sense. 
 
 Y THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 
 
 The organ of this sense is the eye. This is an instrument 
 carefully constructed on the scientific principles of the tele- 
 scope. Rays of light, coming from a luminous object, enter 
 the eye through a small opening called the pupil. They 
 thence proceed through the crystalline and aqueous humors 
 of the ball, which serve as a lens to gather them to a focal 
 
 instrument, then by the pressure of a larger body, and, finally, by having 
 the edge of something drawn over him, to teach him the extension of 
 bodies, but all in vain. He concludes, therefore, that extension and other 
 primary qualities of bodies are not first learned by the touch. 
 
 This is ridiculous; — utterly unlike the strong good sense usually 
 exhibited by this writer. Let the blind man have his tools. If we tell him 
 to meas urethe length of a board, or the distance to the market, by the 
 touch, let us not tie up his hands and feet. Assuming the breadth of his 
 hand, or an artificial rule, he by it measures off the length of the board. 
 Here is the touch mechanically applied. It would be quite another affair 
 to have the board drawn over him. Having determined the length of his 
 board, he can by it measure the distance to market. 
 
96 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 point, whence they diverge and present an inverted image 
 of the object upon the retina. The retina is a delicate ex- 
 pansion of the optic nerve, covering the entire posterior part 
 of the internal globe of the eye, in the right place to receive 
 the image. The instant the image of the object falls upon 
 the retina, there arises in the mind the sensation of sight. 
 Here is the extent of human knowledge on this subject. 
 We can trace the rays of light to the optic nerve. If that 
 nerve is perfect, and the image of the object is perfectly 
 formed upon it, the mind can see ; — if either the nerve 
 or the image is wanting, the mind does not see. Here 
 is certainly the relation of antecedent and consequent ; but 
 whether the one is really the cause of the other, or what 
 the nature of the connection is, man has never known. 
 
 Around the pupil is a circular colored portion of the eye, 
 called the iris, because it resembles the rainbow. The color 
 seems especially designed to minister to beauty and expres- 
 siveness, but other important purposes are served. The iris 
 is made capable of contracting and enlarging on its interior 
 boundary, so as to diminish or expand the opening it sur- 
 rounds, according to the intensity of light. When the 
 light is feeble, the iris and pupil expand ; as the light be- 
 comes intense, they contract ; — an interesting illustration 
 of Divine wisdom and goodness ; since without this ar- 
 rangement, the transition from feeble to intense light, 
 would destroy the delicate organ. For further protection, 
 the pupil and iris are overspread with a firm transparent 
 covering, called the cornea. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE OE COLORS ONLY BY THE EYE. 
 
 A person blind from his birth has no true idea of colors. 
 An amusing proof of this is given by Locke . A blind 
 man flattered himself that he had at last arrived at a knowl- 
 edge of colors ; — on being asked to define red, he said it 
 was like the sound of a trumpet. 
 
 It is evident, that a person with only four external senses, 
 must liken an object, which can be perceived only through the 
 wanting sense, to something perceptible through one of 
 these four. Hence, a man without eyes must liken colors 
 
THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 97 
 
 to something touched, heard, tasted, or smelt. Now red is a 
 sharp color. It is not only so to the eye, but to the touch ; 
 so that blind persons have sometimes distinguished it, by 
 this sense alone. The delicate touch of the hand, as well 
 as the eye, discriminates between the harshness of red and 
 the softness of blue. So that, in one respect, scarlet is like 
 the sound of a trumpet. The blind man was right ; still he 
 had no just idea of colors. 
 
 KNOWLEDGE OF COLORS ALL THAT THE EYE ORIGINALLY 
 GIVES US. 
 
 The sight receives credit, with most people, for giving us 
 knowledge due to the touch and other senses. In strict 
 accuracy, the knowledge of colors is all that the eye origi- 
 nally gives us. These colors pertain to light. The eye is 
 an instrument adapted to analyze and separate these colors, 
 and exhibits them on the retina for the mind's perception. 
 A red body, is a body suited to reflect those rays upon the 
 retina, which give the peculiar perception of red. The 
 same is true of bodies of every elementary color, and of all 
 possible combinations of colors. Although the colors are 
 not in the bodies, but in the light — the medium through 
 which they are seen — yet, as they appear to be in the 
 bodies, popular usage places them there. As to the specu- 
 lation whether they are really in the light, or whether cer- 
 tain rays have only the power to produce certain perceptions 
 of color, — in other words, whether there is really any such 
 thing as colors, except as they exist in our own minds, — it 
 is left for the idealist and the realist to settle as they please. 
 That something, which we call color, whatever it be, it is 
 the prerogative of the eyes alone to make known to us. 
 
 FIGURE NOT LEARNED BY SIGHT. 
 
 All that the eye gives us, is a variety of light and shade, 
 as presented in the different colors. Of this every person 
 has proof, in the numerous deceptions practised upon him. 
 
98 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Who that has seen the human form rise under the hand of 
 the painter, that has seen large cities and magnificent land- 
 scapes stand in bold relief, in all their endless forms, upon 
 the plain surface of the canvass, can doubt this ? By the 
 various combinations of light and shade, a plain surface may 
 be made to exhibit to the eye every possible form of eleva- 
 tions and depressions ; of squares, spheres, pyramids, and 
 figures of all descriptions. Hence, we cannot obtain our 
 original knowledge of figures by the mere sight. 
 
 DISTANCE NOT LEARNED BY SIGHT. 
 
 Every man has proof of this, in the mistakes he makes 
 when he trusts his sight alone to teach him distances. It is 
 not until the eye has been educated, under the admonition 
 of other senses, that it can convey to the mind any idea 
 whatever of the distance of a perceived object. Every 
 object seems equally near to it, and indeed actually present, 
 until the infant puts forth his hand to correct the mistake. 
 Blind persons, when first restored to sight, have no idea of 
 distance, but regard all objects viewed as in contact with 
 their eyes. 
 
 MAGNITUDE NOT LEARNED BY SIGHT. 
 
 This follows from what has been said. The apparent 
 magnitude of an object depends upon its distance ; if, then, 
 the eye cannot tell its distance, it cannot tell its magnitude. 
 A ball six feet in diameter, upon the spire of a lofty steeple, 
 may seem to the eye only six inches in diameter ; nor is it 
 until the distance of the object is known, and a calculation 
 made, that a correct judgment of its real size can be formed. 
 
 The apparent magnitude of an object depends also upon 
 the relative size of things around it. Dr. Abercrombie 
 remarks, that as he was once passing the door of St. Paul's 
 cathedral, several persons were standing in it, who " ap- 
 peared to be very little children ; but on approaching them, 
 they were found to be full grown persons. In the mental 
 process which had taken place, the door had been assumed 
 
THE SENSE OF SIGHT. 99 
 
 as the known magnitude, and the other objects judged of by 
 it. Had he attended to the door's being much larger than 
 any door that one is in the habit of seeing, the mind would 
 have made allowance for the apparent size of the persons ; 
 and, on the other hand, had these been known to be full 
 grown persons, a judgment would have been formed of the size 
 of the door." * A man a little below the ordinary stature, 
 seems a pigmy, when standing by the side of a very large 
 man ; under other circumstances, there is nothing in his 
 stature to attract attention. 
 
 All men have noticed, that the apparent size of objects is 
 varied, also, by their being near the horizon, or high in the 
 heavens (instance the sun and moon) ; by their being on 
 land or on water ; by the state of the atmosphere ; and by 
 other accidental causes, sufficiently obvious. It is hence 
 manifest that the size of objects is not originally determined 
 by the eye, 
 
 EDUCATION OF THIS SENSE. 
 
 No one sense is so dependent on the others as that of 
 sight ; no other sense requires so much discipline, before it 
 learns to tell the truth. And we may add, after it has been 
 well educated, it immeasuredly transcends all the others, in 
 the rapidity, magnificence, and glory of its revelations. It 
 is for the eye to take up and rapidly carry out, on a large 
 scale, ideas introduced to the mind by a slower process. A 
 person blind from his birth, could have nothing like an ade- 
 quate conception of the vast heights, distances, and end- 
 lessly variegated forms, presented to the eye of man by an 
 extended landscape. The gigantic hills and snow-clad 
 mountains, the great rivers and rolling seas, the glorious 
 arch of heaven, the great world of wonders, bursting on the 
 vision at a glance, can never fully enter the mind, through 
 the slow and limited sense of touch. 
 
 * Abercrombie's Philosophy, p. 45. Boston edition. 
 
100 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 MOST OBJECTS ADDRESS THE MIND THROUGH SEVERAL 
 
 SENSES. 
 
 A benevolent Providence has made the objects most 
 essential to our being and happiness, address us by most of 
 the senses. Food, drink, &c, are of this description. Take a 
 peach. It first addresses us through the eye. Having 
 admired the beauty of its form and colors, we apply the 
 touch, and are pleased with its mellowness. We are next 
 delighted with its agreeable fragrance ; and sometimes lin- 
 ger long in these preliminary enjoyments, before proceeding 
 to the consummation. We at last apply the taste, and thus 
 put in requisition /owr of the external senses, to extract from 
 the little peach the full amount of pleasure which it proffers. 
 
 COMPENSATION. 
 
 There is a kindly compensatory office performed by the 
 senses for each other, which greatly alleviates the affliction 
 resulting from the loss of any one or more of them. The 
 blind man converts into eyes the ends of his fingers. As 
 he cannot see the forms of letters, he is enabled to feel them. 
 Guided by the touch, he is able to perfect himself in many 
 of the useful and elegant arts, where others depend mostly 
 upon the sight. The ear, too, becomes a substitute for the 
 eye. A blind man will often tell, by the tread, who enters 
 the room, as accurately as the man who sees. If he passes 
 a post, a house, a fence, the change of atmospheric vibrations 
 admonishes him of the object he is passing. It is generally 
 remarked, that when one of the senses is wanting, the others 
 become more acute. The senses of touch and hearing, in 
 blind persons, are usually very keen. The sight, in deaf 
 mutes, is wont to be remarkably quick and discriminating. 
 They will read a man's language on his lips. The explana- 
 tion is, that the mind concentrates its energies on its remain- 
 ing instruments, when some of them are removed, and that 
 more care is bestowed upon their education. 
 
QUESTIONS. 101 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Where is the organ of the sense of Touch situated'? With what do 
 Reid and Brown identify this sense ? How does it appear that they are 
 incorrect ? What is said in the note of Reid's views ? What is the first 
 idea obtained by touch ? What do we thus learn ? How illustrated % 
 What other particulars are learned by touch ? To what is the eye pupil 1 
 What is said of the eye after being taught by the hand 1 Of a blind per- 
 son ? Give Reid's supposition in the note and the reply. How do we 
 learn the qualities of hardness and softness ? What is said on this point ? 
 
 What is the organ of Sight ? Define its nature and operation. The 
 retina ? How far does our knowledge on this point extend ? What rela- 
 tion is here clearly traced ? Describe the nature and uses of the iris. 
 With what are the pupil and iris covered ? What knowledge do we obtain 
 only by the eye ? Give the anecdote from Locke^ and remarks upon it. 
 In strict accuracy, what is the only knowledge that the eye gives us 1 To 
 what do colors pertain ? To what, as an instrument, is the eye adapted ? 
 How does it appear that figure is not learned by sight ? How that dis- 
 tance is not ? Magnitude 1 What is said of the education of this sense % 
 After it has been educated 1 What arrangement of Providence respect- 
 ing objects addressing the mind through several senses ? Give the exam- 
 ple. What is said of compensation ? Give the illustrations. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 ADDITIONAL SENSES. 
 
 I. THE SENSE OF TEMPERATURE. 
 
 That we have a sense of temperature, or, in other words, 
 that there is a specific provision in our mental constitution 
 for the affections ivhich we denominate sensations of heat 
 and cold, seems as certain as that we have a sense of smell. 
 It is equally as specific and determinate, and the sensations 
 to which it gives rise are subjects of as distinct consciousness. 
 The organ of this sense seems to pervade the entire mem- 
 branous and nervous system. Without it, the coldest blasts 
 of February and the hottest breath of August, would be to 
 us the same. We should experience no other sensations 
 from drinking hot water than from drinking cold, excepting 
 what might result from injuries done to our organs. The 
 burning of a fever and the chill of death, considered as phys- 
 ical phenomena, would be by the mind alike unnoticed. 
 
 H. THE SENSE OF WEARINESS AND FATIGUE. 
 
 Weariness and fatigue, being counterparts to each other, 
 may be considered, like the sensations of heat and cold, as 
 referable to one and the same sense. Weariness arises from 
 inaction ; fatigue, from labor. Hence, weariness is attended 
 with desire of action; fatigue, with desire of rest. The 
 organ of this sense, like that of temperament, seems to per- 
 vade the entire muscular and nervous system. A sensa- 
 tion of weariness may be realized through the whole body, 
 
ADDITIONAL SENSES. 103 
 
 when the whole body has been in a state of inaction ; — a 
 sensation of fatigue may be more particularly realized in par- 
 ticular members, as the arms, feet, legs, eyes, when these 
 members have been particularly overworked. 
 
 Men accustomed to labor, are most liable to weariness 
 from inaction ; men accustomed to inaction, are most liable 
 to fatigue from labor. Were it not for this sense, we should 
 be both without the means of judging whether we have 
 reached or passed the due measure of bodily exertion, and 
 without any admonition to prompt us to that measure of ex- 
 ercise and of rest, which our well-being demands. 
 
 If any object to assigning to this sense a specific existence 
 in the mental constitution, I would ask, what shall we do 
 with it ? Are we conscious of this class of sensations ? Yes. 
 Are they of sufficient importance to deserve notice ? Cer- 
 tainly. Do all sensations imply a sense ? — As truly as any 
 mental act implies a power to that act. To what then shall 
 we refer the sensations in question ? To the sense of smell f 
 We do not smell weariness and fatigue. Taste? — We 
 do not taste them. Touch ? — We do not touch them. 
 Sight? — We do not see them. Hearing? — We do not 
 hear them. Temperature ? — They are neither hot, cold, 
 nor luke-warm. We must then refer them to a specific sense. 
 The mind is so constituted, that, in certain states of the body, 
 sensations of this class are realized, as truly and determi- 
 nately as, in other states of it, are those of smell or of 
 hearing. 
 
 in. THE SENSE OF PLEASURE AND PAIN. 
 
 These, also, being counterparts, may be referred to the 
 same sense. It may be questioned, whether we have any 
 distinct sense of pleasure and pain, or whether these sensa- 
 tions are not referable to the individual or combined action 
 of the other senses. The former seems the more philosophi- 
 cal supposition. All will admit that the pleasure we realize 
 in smelling a rose, is a different thing from the sensation of 
 smell. The smell is one thing; the pleasure is another. 
 Yet both are sensations. The term sensual pleasure, as dis- 
 
104 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 tinguished from purely mental pleasure, conveys a distinct 
 idea to all minds. 
 
 The calm and continued pleasure — so constant that we 
 scarcely notice it, except when interrupted — arising from a 
 state of health and the free and full play of all the bodily 
 functions, and the painful uneasiness resulting from a state 
 of debility or disease, are sensations too marked not to be 
 referred to a specific source. Who can reasonably doubt, 
 that there is a specific provision in the mental constitution for 
 these sensations ? 
 
 What has been said of pleasure, is equally true of pain. 
 The smell of a disagreeable odor, is one thing ; the pain at- 
 tending that smell, another. Yet both are real sensations. 
 Both afford us distinct cognitions. " To experience those 
 states of the bodily organs which are adapted to produce 
 pain, is one thing, and to experience pain, another. The 
 former is continued during certain periods, the latter occa- 
 sional or remitted. What is generally considered continual 
 pain, consists usually of a series of painful sensations, more 
 or less protracted, and separated from each other by longer 
 or shorter intervals of repose or relief from the occurrence of 
 other mental exercises." * 
 
 It is the obvious design of pain to admonish us of some- 
 thing wrong in our system, and incite us to correct it, and to 
 avoid its recurrence. In this view, the sense of pain, as well 
 as of pleasure, is a great blessing. 
 
 It is perhaps unnecessary to add, that all hinds and de- 
 grees of the sensations of pleasure and of pain, which we 
 receive through the body, are referable to this sense. 
 Whether, then, it is of sufficient importance to deserve a 
 name and a place, let humanity, in the multitude of her 
 pleasures and pains, judge. 
 
 * Critical Exposition of Mental Philosophy, by Leicester A. Sawyer 
 New Haven edition, 1839. 
 
ADDITIONAL SENSES. 105 
 
 IV. THE SENSE OF APPETITE, 
 
 By the sense of appetite, I designate that in our constitu- 
 tion, which gives rise to hunger, thirst, desire for the other 
 ac*, fcc. For popular convenience, we speak of thirsting for 
 water, and of hungering for food ; but both hunger and thirst, 
 ; 3 the other instinctive desires or cravings of nature, 
 now c : . "i . are referable to the same generic sense of 
 
 appetite. This sense is variously developed, at different 
 periods of growth, according to the demand for it. 
 
 To those who may object to there being a particular sense 
 of appetite, and who would refer all appetite to ordinary sen- 
 sations of pain seeking relief, I would say, — Is not that un- 
 easiness which occasions desire for food, drink, &c, unlike 
 ■ Do not all other uneasy or painful sensations 
 tend : this desire ? The pain (if so they choose to 
 
 call that which I call appetite*) which gives rise to this de- 
 sire, implies a natural and healthy state; — all other pain 
 implies an unnatural and diseased state. The latter directly 
 vkst vySj the former directly produces, the desire in question. 
 The one belongs to man in innocence and soundness ; the 
 other pertains to him in sinfulness and disease. I infer, 
 therefore, a specific provision in our constitution for the sen- 
 sations in question : — in other words, that we have a sense 
 :-.- :':-:. which is as truly a part of our original constitu- 
 tion, as the sense of smell or of taste. The importance of 
 this sense is certainly not inferior to that of any pertaining 
 to our system. 
 
 i; The ultimate purpose of the sensations connected with 
 oetites, is evidently the voluntary preservation of life, 
 and the continuance and multiplication of the different orders 
 of voluntary beings. They serve as the exciting causes of 
 desires and actions, which are necessary to the attainment 
 :: these en Is, and are an essential part of the nature of all 
 voluntary beings. Man is not alone in the exercise of them. 
 All the other tribes of voluntary beings, which are subject to 
 his dominion, or divide with him the empire of the world, are 
 
 ible of similar exercises." * 
 
 * Sawyer's Mental Philosophy, p. 30. 
 
106 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Before leaving the consideration of the additional senses 
 noticed in this chapter, I would remark, that the various 
 sensations, to which they give rise, furnish us with a vast 
 fund of primary knowledge ; — that they minister largely to 
 our enjoyment, or our suffering, according as they are right- 
 ly used or abused ; and that they are the occasions of nu- 
 merous desires and aversions, from which spring those affec- 
 tions and volitions which are the subject matter of Moral and 
 Spiritual Philosophy. It would seem that sensations of this 
 class have not hitherto received sufficient notice ; owing, 
 probably, to the difficulty of defining and classing them. 
 That the above classification will prove satisfactory, is per- 
 haps too much to presume ; — but it is the best which I 
 have been able to furnish. Some good suggestions on 
 this subject will be found in Sawyer's Critical Analysis, to 
 which reference has been already had. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER IX. 
 
 What is meant by a sense of Temperature ? What comparison is made 
 between this and the sense of smell ? Where is the organ of this sense 
 located ? What would be our experience without it ? Why may weariness 
 and fatigue be referred to the same sense ? From what does weariness 
 arise ? From what fatigue ? With what is weariness attended ? With 
 what fatigue ? Where is the organ of this sense located ? Where and 
 when may a sensation of weariness be realized? — A sensation of fatigue ? 
 What is said of men accustomed to labor, and the reverse ? What would 
 be our condition without this sense ? State the substance of the reply to 
 those who object to assigning to it a specific existence in the mental con- 
 stitution. Why may pleasure and pain be referred to the same sense ? 
 What question may be raised here ? Which of the two suppositions seems 
 most philosophical 1 What reasons are given ? What is the obvious 
 design of pain ? What is meant by the sense of appetite ? What reasons 
 are given in answer to those who deny that we have a specific sense of 
 appetite? What importance is assigned to the sensations due to the 
 senses here considered ? 
 
CHAPTER X 
 SENSATION. 
 
 Having considered those mental susceptibilities or pow- 
 ers, together with their organs, which are the sources of 
 sensation, we are prepared to notice the various sensations 
 themselves, to which they give rise. 
 
 A SENSATION IS A MENTAL AFFECTION IMMEDIATELY RE- 
 SULTING FROM A CHANGE IN AN ORGAN OF SENSE. 
 
 Mental affections, not originating through organs of sense, 
 such as love, joy, hatred, are sometimes called sensations, 
 but not with philosophical accuracy. They are mental 
 feelings, but not sensations. The term sensation is, by the 
 best authorities, restricted to those mental affections which 
 are directly due to the organs of sense. When something 
 is said to have produced a great sensation among a people — 
 as the news of a victory or a defeat — the expression is to 
 be understood as popular, and not philosophical language. 
 
 Under the head of sensations, I include all the mental 
 affections, of which the senses are the direct subjective 
 cause. It is as philosophical to speak of sensations of pleas- 
 ure and pain, of weariness and fatigue, of heat and cold, 
 as of smell, or of touch, or of taste. Those who allow only 
 five senses, are puzzled to know where to place the first 
 class of the above sensations. 
 
108 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 THE MIND THE AGENT IN SENSATION. 
 
 Sensations are effects, in the production of "which are 
 causes without, exciting the organ, and the mind, an in- 
 telligent agent, acting in connection with the organ, at the 
 same time. The united action of both the organ and the 
 mind, is essential to sensation. The organ, then, is the 
 mutual instrument of mind and matter, — the point at which 
 the two worlds meet. Whatever operates upon the organ 
 from without, is the occasional cause of sensation ; the organ 
 is the instrumental cause ; the mind is both the agent and 
 the subjective cause of it. If I smell a rose, the odorous 
 effluvia are the occasional cause, the olfactory nerves the 
 instrumental, and the mind the agent and subject, of the 
 sensation of smell. It is only by this joint action, that birth 
 is given to the phenomenon in question. 
 
 HOW SENSATIONS ARE KNOWN. 
 
 Sensations are known only by consciousness. To know 
 them, we must experience them. Suppose you undertake 
 to explain to one, who never experienced it, the sensation 
 produced by the prick of a pin. You may labor with ex- 
 planations a month, and he will be no wiser. Put the point 
 of a pin into his skin, and he knows in a moment. Before, 
 he only conjectured ; now, he knows. What volumes of 
 explanation could not explain to him in years, the point of a 
 pin can teach him at once. Who ever learned, from scien- 
 tific explanations, the precise sensation realized in the ex- 
 traction of a tooth ? The dentist's chair can teach what no 
 books can. 
 
 Accordingly, we seize on the most common and prominent 
 sensations — such as all are presumed to have experienced — 
 and compare others with them. When a man would de- 
 scribe his sensations in gout, fever, paralysis, or some other 
 affection, not common to us, he compares it with the prick 
 of a pin, burning, freezing, or any thing similar to it, which 
 we have all experienced. This is to us but an approzima- 
 
SENSATION. 109 
 
 tion to the fact. He alone exactly knows the sensation 
 who has experienced it. 
 
 And here we may notice the folly of those who would 
 maintain the utter impracticability of a mutual interchange 
 of definite and exact thoughts by language. When language 
 represents a common experience, its utterances, as received, 
 are essentially true to fact; — human experience, in rela- 
 tion to most things, is the same. 
 
 ALL IDEAS BY SENSATION ARE COGNITIONS. 
 
 Whatever we directly learn by sensation, is absolute 
 knowledge. The idea always exactly corresponds with the 
 fact. Our consciousness cannot deceive us. I have an 
 idea in regard to the flavor of a peach, by hearing it de- 
 scribed ; — my idea may be true or not, — it is a conjecture. 
 When I taste, I know. But we must not confound the 
 knowledge of the sensation with that of its cause. The 
 sensation produced by a pinch of snuff, and the snuff itself y 
 are distinct things. It is only the sensation, of which we 
 are conscious ; — the cause of the sensation is an object of 
 perception. When my hand touches a hot body, a certain 
 change takes place in the organ of touch ; whereupon a cor- 
 responding change instantly takes effect in my mind, termed 
 a sensation of heat. Of this sensation I am conscious. I 
 know it. Respecting its cause, I may be in ignorance or 
 doubt. 
 
 PHYSIOLOGICAL VIEW OF SENSATION. 
 
 The seat of sensation is usually termed the sensorium* 
 It is by some located in the brain — the supposed seat of 
 the mind — while the nerves are considered mere messen- 
 gers, to bear reports thither from all parts of the body. 
 Others regard the nerves as constituting, in connection with 
 the brain, the sensorial organ. 
 
 10 
 
110 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 NERVES AND BRAIN. 
 
 The nerve is a fine, white, fibrous thread, ramifying mi- 
 nutely into all parts of the body, and connecting with the 
 brain. The brain is an organized mass, or rather a conge- 
 ries of organized little masses, of the same substance with 
 the nerve. In the substance of the nerve itself, as well as 
 in the substance of the brain, there is no sensibility.* The 
 sensibility resides in the envelope, called the neuralima. 
 Around every nervous thread, however minute, and around 
 the great mass and all the little portions of the brain, this 
 thin membrane is spread, of extreme delicacy and sensibility. 
 It is of the same general nature with the other membranes 
 of the body, only more refined and sensible. Indeed, it 
 varies its own texture to suit the organ it invests. It is 
 more sensible in the special organs of sense — the eye, ear, 
 mouth, &c, than in other parts of the body; and more so 
 in some of these organs than in others. It is more delicate 
 in the ends of the fingers, than in any other parts of the 
 hand. Along with the nerves, running in every direction, 
 it connects with all the other membranes of the body.t 
 
 All the muscles, every little fleshy fibre, as well as the 
 bones, are pervaded with it, and hence instinct with sensi- 
 bility. 
 
 THE SEAT OF SENSIBILITY NOT EXCLUSIVELY IN THE HEAD. 
 
 Sensibility, therefore, cannot be regarded as having a seat 
 exclusively in the head. Its seat is all over and through 
 
 * See Bichat's Anatomy and Physiology, 
 
 t " Our fundamental idea of a nervous system includes a central organ 
 or ganglion, essentially composed of vesicles or cells, with a plexus of capil- 
 lary vessels distributed amongst these ; and a set of trunks and ramifying 
 branches, composed of tubular fibres, and connecting the ganglion with 
 different parts of the fabric. These branches are for the most part dis- 
 tributed, on the one hand, to the sensory surfaces and organs ; and, on the 
 other, to the muscles or motor organs." — Principles of Human Physiology, 
 by William B. Carpenter, M. D., F. E. S., F. G. S., Examiner in Physiology 
 in the University of London, p. 230. This work comprises a complete view 
 of the most scientific and approved doctrines of physiology, down to the 
 present time. 
 
SENSATION. Ill 
 
 the body, wherever there is membrane and nerve.* Touch 
 any part, where these are found, and there we are conscious 
 of feeling. Sensibility, like life itself, is all pervading. 
 
 If we must ascribe the seat of sensation to any one part, 
 rather than another, both physiology and experience would 
 designate the stomach. This is one of the most vascular, 
 tissuous, fibrous organs of the human system. It is a thor- 
 ough congeries of the very elements which give rise to 
 feeling. 
 
 Experience also teaches us, that our mental feelings are 
 first realized in the stomach, rather than in the head. Sad- 
 ness, depression, the glow of joy, are first felt at the epigas- 
 trium. If we hear bad news just as we are about to dine, 
 we feel a depression at the stomach ; we cannot eat. Grief 
 destroys digestion ; cheerfulness promotes it. f 
 
 It may be said that the good or bad news we hear acts 
 on the stomach through the brain, the brain being first 
 affected. That is not to the point. I am now speaking 
 of sensibility, and of our consciousness. The question is, 
 where are we conscious of realizing the feelings in question ? 
 While some parts are more sensible than others, sensibility 
 is more or less diffused through the entire living body. 
 
 AGENCY OF NERVES AND BRAIN. 
 
 What, then, is the office of the nerves and brain ? I 
 have said that, apart from their membranous envelope, 
 they are without sensibility. They are not, then, in them- 
 
 * The ganglionic masses at the base of the brain are highly charged with 
 the elements of sensibility, and seem to have a special agency in sensation. 
 Here the membranous and vascular systems predominate. " At the base 
 of the brain in man, concealed by the cerebral hemispheres, but still 
 readily distinguishable from them, we find a series of ganglionic masses, 
 which are in direct connection with the nerves of sensation ; and which 
 appear to have functions quite independent of those of the other compo- 
 nents of the encephalon." — Principles of Human Physiology, by William B. 
 Carpenter, 8fc, p. 320. 
 
 t " It is stated by Brachet, that, in some of his experiments upon the 
 par vagum, some hours after section of the nerve on both sides, the surface 
 only of the elementary mass was found to have undergone solution, the 
 remainder of the mass remaining in the condition in which it was at first 
 
112 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 selves, organs of feeling.* If they have any thing to do 
 with the mind, they must be organs of intelligence or knowl- 
 edge, as distinguished from feeling. Of the latter, the 
 membranous system is the organ ; of the former, including 
 the brain, the nervous. Both are essential to sensation. 
 Neither the nerves and brain alone, nor the membranes 
 alone, can produce it. Without the one, there can be no 
 sensibility; without the other, the excited sensibility is 
 unnoticed. 
 
 SENSATION NOT STRICTLY SIMPLE. 
 
 Sensation has been considered a simple act of mind.f It 
 is, however, when fully analyzed, not strictly so. The 
 change that takes place in the organs of sense, rouses the 
 feelings; the change in the nerves and brain makes the 
 mind conscious of this new state. If it be said, that we can 
 have no mental feelings, of which we are not conscious ; — 
 this has been doubted ; — but grant it. Does it follow that 
 a mental emotion and a consciousness of that emotion, are 
 strictly the same thing ? Certainly not. And yet both are 
 essential to sensation. Not only so, we seem to have two 
 distinct sets of organs for this two-fold mental operation. 
 This is not given as a fact, but as a theory based on the 
 
 ingested ; and if this statement can be relied upon, it would appear that 
 the movements of the stomach, like those of the heart, can be readily affected 
 by a strong nervous impression. It may be partly in this manner, therefore, 
 aud not by acting upon the secretions alone, that strong emotions influence 
 the digestive process, as they are well known to do." — Carpenters Physiology, 
 p. 491. 
 
 * The reader will carefully note the distinction between sensibility and 
 sensation. Sensation is the more comprehensive. It includes both the ex- 
 cited sensibility and the mind's cognizance of it. Perhaps an illustration 
 will be better understood. A gentle word may awaken no sensation in 
 my friend, because his mind is absorbed in thought. The sharp voice of a 
 pistol in his car, would probably awaken sensation. If there were no sen- 
 sibility, the report of a pistol would be no more effectual than the feeblest 
 whisper. Until the excited sensibility of the organ rises to a point to 
 overcome the influence that holds the attention to something else, and call 
 it to what is taking place in this particular organ, there can be no sensa- 
 tion of sound. 
 
 tSee Upham's Philosophy, p. 24. New York edition, 1847. Also 
 Beid's Works, Vol. II., p. 28. 
 
SENSATION. 113 
 
 best physiological authority. There are other considerations 
 tending to confirm this view, which I shall notice. 
 
 HOW OBJECTS ACT ON THE ORGAN OP SENSE. 
 
 It is by all admitted, that objects around us produce in 
 us sensations, by causing some change in the organs of 
 sense. The precise nature of this change is not always 
 evident, and yet we know something about it. Although 
 the nerves, apart from their envelope, are insensible, yet, 
 as they always have their envelope, we are justified in the 
 popular use of the term nervous sensibility. Both common 
 people and men of science know what the term means. 
 Whether the excitement is in the substance of the nerve 
 itself, or in the covering of the nerve, is of no consequence 
 in this connection. All I wish to assert here, is, that the 
 first effect produced upon us by external objects, is an ex- 
 citement of what is usually called the nervous sensibility of 
 the organ affected. 
 
 THE ORGANS OF SENSE ARE STIMULATED. 
 
 The most common effect produced on the organs of sense, 
 by external causes, is that of a stimulus. Thus light stimu- 
 lates the optic nerve. It stimulates all living things. 
 Next to caloric, it is the most important of the agents, with 
 which the Almighty operates upon the material universe. 
 The vegetable, when it feels the presence of light, is roused 
 to newness of life. When rays of light, coming to the eye 
 from an object, are converged within it to a focal point, and 
 thence thrown upon the delicate expansion of optic nerve 
 investing the retina, it operates as a powerful stimulus to 
 that organ. Its sensibilities are thus roused in reference to 
 the object, and sensation immediately follows. Different 
 colors have different degrees of sharpness and mellowness ; 
 various forms make their various impressions ; the sensibili- 
 ties excited, and the sensations produced, vary accordingly. 
 This is a simple statement of fact. How the presence of 
 light stimulates the optic nerve, and how the excited sensi- 
 10* 
 
114 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 bilities of that organ produce in the mind the sensation of 
 sight, are questions beyond human reach. 
 
 In a similar manner, the presence of odors to the olfac- 
 tory nerve stimulates that organ. The ordinary pleasures 
 resulting from the delicious odors attending our meats and 
 drinks, and from the mellow fragrance of fruits and flowers, 
 not less than the more gross and potent luxury of snuff- 
 taking, depend upon the excitement thus produced. Simi- 
 lar, also, is the excitement of the sensibilities of the gusta- 
 tory organs, by the presence of food ; and of the organs of 
 hearing, by the atmospheric vibrations. In all cases, an 
 immediate sensation attends this nervous excitement. 
 
 In the case of touch, some other word than stimulus 
 would perhaps be more appropriate. And yet it is essen- 
 tially the same thing. The part touched is excited, moved, 
 stimulated, and thus made sensible of the presence of the 
 cause. If the part is hit severely, or wounded, the excite- 
 ment becomes violent, and a painful sensation is the result. 
 
 Other sensations result from the want of due stimulus, or 
 from the re-action of over excitement. Such are sensations 
 of weariness and fatigue. 
 
 SENSATIONS ARE LOCAL. 
 
 It follows, from what has been said, that the popular mind 
 is not so much mistaken as has been supposed, in assigning 
 localities to sensation. " Sensation is often regarded," says 
 Prof. Upham,* " as something having a position, and as taking 
 place in the body, and particularly in the organ of sense. 
 The sensation of touch, as we seem to imagine, is in the 
 hand, whichis the organ of touch, and is not truly internal ; 
 the hearing is in the ear, and the vision in the eye, and not 
 in the soul. But all we can say with truth and on good 
 ground, is, that the organs of sense are accessory to sensa- 
 tion and necessary to it ; but the sensation or feeling itself 
 is wholly in the mind. How often it is said the eye sees ; 
 but the proper language, if we look at the subject philo- 
 
 * Mental Philosophy, p. 25. 
 
SENSATION. 115 
 
 sophically, is, that the soul sees ; for the eye is only the 
 organ, instrument, or minister of the soul in visual percep- 
 tions. " " A man," says Reid,* " cannot see the satellites 
 of Jupiter but by a telescope. Does he conclude from this, 
 that it is the telescope that sees those stars ? By no means ; 
 such a conclusion would be absurd. It is no less absurd to 
 conclude that it is the eye that sees, or the ear that hears. 
 The telescope is an artificial organ of sight, but it sees not. 
 The eye is a natural organ of sight, by which we see ; but 
 the natural organ sees as little as the artificial." 
 
 There is a fallacy here. Both the telescope and the eye 
 are instruments, but the essential difference between them 
 is not that the one is natural and the other artificial : — that 
 is a point of no consequence : — It is, that the one is a dead 
 instrument, and the other instinct with living mind. But 
 what Reid wished to illustrate is true. In strict philosophy, 
 it is the mind that sees, not the eye. It is the mind that 
 tastes, smells, hears, feels, &c. The mind is the agent ; the 
 organ of sense, the instrument. Nobody disputes this. It 
 is the inference that I deny. Because it is the mind that 
 feels, does it follow that the feeling may not take place in 
 certain parts of the body ? — in the hand, head, or foot ? 
 If the entire body is instinct with sensibility, may not the 
 mind be conscious of feeling in any part of it ? May not 
 the feeling be in the mind and in the organ of sensation 
 too ? Evidently, if the mind is in the organ of sensation, 
 and in that organ it must be, to experience a sensation from 
 it ; unless we adopt something like the exploded theory, 
 that the mind stays in the brain, and the nerves act as tele- 
 graphic wires, to tell it what is going on in the various 
 organs ; or the yet more objectional theory, that the mind is 
 nowhere. 
 
 The inference to which I object, seems to be founded on 
 a false notion respecting the connection of the mind with the 
 body. It seems to suppose that the mind is lodged in some 
 quarter, whence it looks forth upon the body and operates it, 
 by a kind of machinery, as we operate a lifeless engine. As 
 it is important that the mind should have a favorable posi- 
 
 * Reid's Works, Vol. IL, p. 50. 
 
116 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 tion, most philosophers have concluded to assign it the head. 
 To place it in the toe, would be too great a blunder for any 
 philosopher. " Though philosophers have disputed much 
 about the place of the mind," says Reid, " yet none of them 
 ever placed it in the toe." * 
 
 But if we have taken the right view — and it is the view 
 sustained by the most scientific physiology — then the mind 
 is confined to no one part. It is all pervading. The whole 
 living body is instinct with mind; although the nerves and 
 brain are organs of thought, while the membranous systems 
 are organs of feeling. This being so, in a being of soul and 
 body, sensation must be " regarded as something having a 
 position, and as taking place in the body, and particularly 
 in the organs of sense." 
 
 OBJECTION TO THIS VIEW. 
 
 It is objected to this view, that if the mind thus pervades 
 the entire body, and may be said to be in the hands, feet, 
 toes, &c, then we have only to cut off a man's limb, to take 
 away a part of his mind. Whereas, he has as much mind 
 after the amputation as before. Here, again, there is a 
 confounding of mind with matter. Mind is pure spirit ; 
 hence, its existence is substantially independent of matter in. 
 every form and measure. The mind of God pervades the 
 entire universe : — yet the annihilation of a world takes 
 away no portion of his mind. So the mind of man pervades 
 his entire body ; yet the removal of a limb, removes no part 
 of his mind. The mind concentrates its action, so to speak, 
 in what remains. Pluck out one eye, and the same entire 
 mind concentrates its vision in the remaining eye. Go on 
 removing member after member; and so long as life re- 
 mains, the mind remains, the same one entire being, doing 
 the best it can with its remaining and mutilated instruments, 
 until you destroy life. 
 
 * Rcid's Works, Vol. II., p. 269. 
 
SENSATION. 117 
 
 CASES CITED BY KEID. 
 
 " Cases sometimes happen," says Dr. Reid, " which give 
 occasion even to the vulgar to distinguish the painful sensa- 
 tion from the disorder which is the cause of it. A man who 
 has had his leg cut off, many years after feels pain in a toe 
 of that leg. The toe has now no existence ; and he per- 
 ceives easily, that the toe can neither be the place, nor the 
 subject of the pain which he feels ; yet it is the same feeling 
 he used to have from a hurt in the toe ; and if he did not 
 know that his leg was cut off, it would give him the same 
 immediate conviction of some hurt or disorder in the toe."* 
 
 The distinction between the sensation and the disorder 
 which occasions it, is made by the simplest minds. The 
 question is, whether the disorder and the sensation are in 
 the same place. I maintain that they are. If the head is 
 disordered, the pain is in the head; if the foot is disordered, 
 the pain is in the foot. Nor are cases of sympathetic pains, 
 as they are called, exceptions. A disordered stomach 
 occasions pain in the head, because it occasions pressure of 
 blood or some other derangement in that part. Such is the 
 connection of the various membranes and organs of the 
 body, that a disorder in one part creates disturbance in 
 another ; and, moreover, the sensation may sometimes be- 
 come most intense in the part indirectly disordered, because 
 the sensibilities of that part are least blunted. But there 
 is real disorder there, and that disorder occasions the sensa- 
 tion in question. To put my meaning in plainest English, 
 if the irregularity in the stomach occasioned no irregularity 
 in the head, there would be no headache. 
 
 As to the supposed pain in the toe, after the limb was 
 cut off, it is a strong confirmation of my view. It shows 
 that the man's mind had been accustomed to feeling the pain 
 in that particular part, until it had become a mental habit. 
 If he had not actually- felt it in the toe, while the toe was 
 on, would he have imagined it in the toe, after the toe was 
 off? We all know how easily the imagination re-creates 
 what the mind has previously experienced. 
 
 * Reid's Works, Vol. tt, p. 270. 
 
118 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND EXPERIENCE. 
 
 Other things equal, that is the soundest philosophy which 
 tallies with common experience and observation. Now, 
 there is no hazard in asserting, that ninety-nine hundredths 
 of men without pretensions to science, do really suppose that 
 their vision is in their eyes, their taste in their mouths, their 
 smell in their noses, their hearing in their ears, and their 
 feeling wherever they happen to feel. Why, then, are phi- 
 losophers so anxious to resist this universal belief ? Is it 
 because they are afraid of materializing the mind ? Or 
 because they covet a philosophy too deep for common peo- 
 ple ? Is it not rather, because they have assumed a defini- 
 tion of sensation which compels them to do it ? — a limited 
 definition, which makes no account of any thing actually 
 realized by the mind in the organ of sense. The latter is 
 the undoubted reason. 
 
 When a simple-minded man burns his finger, he speaks 
 of pain in it. " Hold," says the philosopher, " there is no 
 pain in your finger ; the pain is in the mind." 
 
 " But I am certainly conscious of pain in my finger. If 
 my finger were well, my mind would be well enough." 
 
 " Now I can prove to you, philosophically, that all the 
 pain is in the mind, not in the body ; for if we take away 
 the mind from the body, you may burn the body to cinders, 
 and it will realize no pain." 
 
 "Very well. And so if we take away the body from the 
 mind; you may burn the body to cinders, and the mind will 
 realize no pain. So I do not see but my simplicity is as 
 good as your philosophy." 
 
 At another time, the same untaught man sees a fine look- 
 ing apple, but on tasting finds it very bitter. " This fruit," 
 he says, " is not so good as it looks ; it is pleasant to the 
 eye, but very disagreeable to the mouth." 
 
 " Stop," says the philosopher, " that will not do. There 
 is no such thing as pleasant to the eye and disagreeable to 
 the mouth. There is no vision in the eye, nor taste in the 
 mouth. You ought to say, * the apple is pleasant to the 
 
QUESTIONS. 119 
 
 mind, when the mind sees it ; but disagreeable to the mind, 
 when the mind tastes it.' " 
 
 " But, in my simplicity, I always supposed,'' he replies, 
 " that the mind does its seeing in the eye, and its tasting in 
 the mouth. At any rate, it will take something more than 
 your philosophy to convince me, that it is not in my mouth 
 that I realize this bitter taste." 
 
 Now if we but consider that the mind is the I — that 
 when I speak of my mind, I speak of myself, we see that 
 the simpleton here is wiser than the philosopher. What 
 sense in saying, I have a pain in myself f Where else 
 could I have it ? But there is some sense in saying, I have 
 a pain in my head, for it might be in some other part. We 
 all agree that sensations are, and of course must be, in the 
 mind ; there can be no question of this ; and for one, I am 
 disposed to regard them, also, " as something having a posi- 
 tion, and as taking place in the body, and particularly in 
 the organ of sense," although so unfortunate as to have 
 excellent authorities against me. Asking none to take my 
 humble judgment, and quite content to let it pass for what 
 it is worth, I am disposed to say with my fellow simpletons, 
 that vision is in the eye, that taste is in the mouth, that 
 smell is in the nose, that hearing is in the ear, and that 
 feeling is just where something is felt. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER X. 
 
 What is sensation ? What is the difference between sensation and other 
 mental feelings'? To what is the term sensation restricted'? How much 
 is included under the head of sensations % What is said of those who hold 
 to only five senses ? What is the agent in sensation % How many causes 
 combine to produce sensation'? Illustration. How are sensations 
 known 1 Illustrate. What may we here notice 1 What are all our ideas 
 obtained by sensation'? What is cognition'? Answer — Knowledge. 
 Illustrate. With what must we not confound sensation % What is the 
 seat of sensation ? What is the nerve ? The brain ? Where does the sen- 
 
120 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 sibility of nerve reside % What is said of the neuralima ? To what con- 
 clusion are we brought respecting the seat of sensibility 1 "What is said 
 of seating it in the stomach ? How widely is sensibility diffused 1 What 
 is the office of nerves and brain ? And what of membrane ? Is sensation 
 strictly simple? Why not 2 How do external objects act on the organs of 
 sense ? What is their effect on these organs ? Illustrations — Sight, 
 Odors, Food, &c. Are sensations local ? What say Upham and Reid ? 
 What is the fallacy here 1 Eemarks. Is the mind confined to any one 
 part of the body ? Inference. What objection to this view ? Answer ? 
 What case is cited by Reid? Reply to it ? What is said of the supposed 
 pain in the toe ? Other things equal, which is the soundest philosophy % 
 State the substance of the colloquy between the uneducated man and the 
 philosopher. How does it appear that the former is right? Let the 
 reader give his own opinion. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 IMPROVEMENT OP OUR SENSATIONS. 
 
 As our knowledge originates in sensations, and as they 
 contribute so essentially through life to our entire mental 
 furniture and to our social and moral character, it becomes 
 an interesting inquiry, How they may be improved to best 
 advantage ? It has been previously said, that sensation 
 always involves an affection of the organ of sense, as well as 
 of the mind. As they mutually depend upon each other, 
 we must have an eye to both. 
 
 THE ORGANS OF SENSATION SUSCEPTIBLE OF CULTURE. 
 
 There is undoubtedly a great difference between men, in 
 the original capacities of their organs of sense, and a great 
 difference, in the same person, between the relative capaci- 
 ties of his own ; some being often very feeble or entirely- 
 wanting, while others are in a high state of perfection. This 
 difference seems to be mostly owing to greater or less origi- 
 nal delicacy and integrity of the nerves and membranes com- 
 posing the organs. But the difference is owing, vastly more, 
 to the manner in which we use them. Keenness or obtuse- 
 ness of taste and smell, quickness or dulness of hearing, deli- 
 cacy or grossness of feeling, dimness or clearness of vision, 
 together with the qualities of all our inward sensations, are 
 ordinarily more the result of our own doing than of constitu- 
 tional endowment. 
 
 11 
 
122 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 HOW THE ORGANS OF SENSATION MAY BE IMPROVED. 
 
 All the organs of sensation may be improved, by a judi- 
 cious use of them, in connection with habits of strict temper- 
 ance. They may be enfeebled by neglect ; they may be 
 injured by over-working ; they may be prostrated by habits 
 of licentiousness, gluttony, drunkenness. Hence, he who 
 would rise to the highest intellectual attainments, should be 
 thoroughly temperate and virtuous : — The brightest names 
 on the roll of intellectual greatness, belong to men of such 
 habits. 
 
 The person in question must not only be temperate and 
 virtuous, but industrious. All the instruments of sensation 
 must be kept bright with use. Industry is as essential to the 
 health and efficiency of the organs of sensation, as to the 
 acquisition of knowledge by the reasoning powers. By habits 
 of indolence and sensual indulgence, the organs of sensation 
 relapse into a condition, in which they teach us little more 
 than they do the brute : — They then give us only the lowest 
 and most animal ideas. 
 
 He who rises late in the morning, lives luxuriously, lounges 
 in indolence, or drags his body about only to make it minis- 
 ter to his pleasure, in respect to the knowledge he obtains 
 by sensation, is more an animal than a man. If we would 
 have our sensations entire and true, our perceptions clear, 
 our judgments sound, and all our ideas and thoughts expand 
 and shoot vigorously upward, we must keep our intellectual 
 tools in the best of order. 
 
 HOW OUR SENSATIONS MAY BE IMPROVED. 
 
 The senses pertain to the mind, and are united to 
 the body in a special relation to the organs of sensation. 
 Hence, while the organ acts as an instrument on the sense, 
 the sense re-acts as an agent on the organ. Their influence 
 is reciprocal and intimate. I look upon an object, with a 
 view to knowing it. That object makes through the eye an 
 impression on the sense of sight. The impression tends to 
 
SENSATION. 123 
 
 fix the eve. The fixedness of the eye tends to make the im- 
 pression more clear and exact. By exerting my will to 
 direct and continue the process to a suitable degree, the 
 physical organ becomes the better adapted, and the sense 
 becomes habituated, to such an effort. Thus the sense is 
 gradually enabled to operate with more ease and efficiency. 
 In this way, all our voluntary sensations have to be educated. 
 Our involuntary sensations are more directly concerned with 
 admonishing us of our physical wants. They do not so much 
 require to be educated, as carefully noticed, in order to fur- 
 nish those higher ideas which belong to us as rational and 
 moral beings. 
 
 Two advantages are secured to the senses, by their proper 
 use, — strength, and habit. All the mental, as well as bodi- 
 ly powers, are strengthened by exercise. If I lay my hand 
 fixedly upon the table for months, it becomes so feeble that 
 I cannot use it. On the contrary, if I vigorously exercise it 
 in some gymnastic school, I may increase its natural strength 
 four fold. It is precisely so with all the voluntary senses. 
 God has placed them in subjection to our will, as talents 
 which we are bound to improve. The responsibility is upon 
 us, and ours must be the irreparable loss, if we fail to dis- 
 charge it. There is doubtless a limit, beyond which the 
 vigor of the senses cannot be raised by exercise ; but it is 
 doubtful whether even the most industrious have ever fully 
 reached it. 
 
 The next advantage secured to the senses, by their appro- 
 priate use, is that of habit. Some may suppose this advan- 
 tage includes the other. They are intimately related, but 
 not the same. Strength may be natural; habit is always ac- 
 quired. Acquired strength is the same thing as natural 
 strength, differing only in its origin. Hence, the acquired 
 strength and the habit of a given sense are two things. Now 
 we all know something of the power of habit. It becomes a 
 second nature, and sometimes more than a match for nature 
 herself. 
 
 He who has from childhood accustomed himself to neglect 
 all his sensations, excepting those which minister only to 
 animal wants and pleasures, has lost what the gold of Cali- 
 fornia cannot redeem. If such has been his course up to 
 
124 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 manhood, the die is cast ; — he may be much of an animal, 
 but he will never be much of a man. On the contrary, he 
 who has trained all his senses to be ever on duty, has formed 
 a habit by which knowledge from all points is perpetually 
 flowing into Ms mind. It becomes natural and easy for him 
 to learn from all sources. Young people should consider 
 this. They should endeavor to form those habits of careful 
 and ever wakeful observation, which are at the foundation of 
 all mental greatness. The importance of this subject justi- 
 fies the use of a few moments on each of the voluntary sensa- 
 tions. 
 
 IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSATION OF SMELL. 
 
 This sensation, as a source of intellectual furniture, is or- 
 dinarily considered of so little importance, that we might be 
 justified in passing it. Excepting the case of persons 
 engaged in some business that makes special demand upon 
 it, and of those deprived of other sensations, we have no 
 means of testing the improvement of which it is susceptible. 
 
 Individuals incapable of exercising any sense but that of 
 smell, have brought it to such a state of perfection as to rival 
 the sharp-scented spaniel. They have become able, in the 
 use of this sense alone, to distinguish their friends from each 
 other, their acquaintances from strangers, and sometimes to 
 trace the way to the place of their residence ; — they have 
 distinguished between colors, and have even found stolen 
 articles of dress. We thus see how much valuable knowl- 
 edge may be gained, even from this humble source, and 
 how great its importance in the absence of others. 
 
 Intemperance of all kinds tends to impair the action of 
 this sense. Snuff-taking, and all other unnatural and violent 
 stimulants addressed to the olfactory nerves, while they 
 create a morbid desire, gradually exhaust the sensibility of 
 the organ, and with it the pleasure at first afforded. That 
 there is some pleasure in thus unnaturally stimulating the 
 nose, and through it the nervous system generally, is not 
 denied. But how soon does this pleasure degenerate to a 
 slavish necessity. The keen sense of this organ being 
 blunted, all the sweet odors of balmy spring, all the rich per- 
 
SENSATION. 125 
 
 fumes of the summer landscape, all the mellow fragrance of 
 autumnal fruits, are lost. On the score of mere pleasure, 
 therefore, young people should be admonished to avoid all 
 habits deleterious to this sense. But as a source of knowl- 
 edge, of pure sentiments, of delicate and refined feelings, 
 it is of vastly more importance. Some of the sweetest 
 imagery in the whole range of literature is founded on dis- 
 criminations of this sense, without which, none can enjoy, or 
 even understand it. 
 
 IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSATION OF TASTE. 
 
 The discriminating power of the sense of taste, depends 
 also on strict temperance and careful attention. When the 
 organ is unduly excited, irritated, inflamed, the sense gradu- 
 ally loses this power. The most discriminating dealer of 
 wines, other things equal, is the most temperate man. In- 
 temperate men sometimes discover much accurate judgment 
 in the choice of liquors, but this is despite of their intemper- 
 ance. The use which led to intemperance, contributed to 
 educate their taste, but intemperance itself contributes to in- 
 jure it. Besides, the taste, as applied to intoxicating drinks, is 
 mostly an acquired taste, not a natural one. It soon degen- 
 erates into a morbid hankering, and all pleasure is lost, except 
 that of allaying the pain thus produced. It ceases to be the 
 positive pleasure afforded by the gratification of taste, and 
 becomes only the negative satisfaction of arresting a morbid 
 craving. 
 
 On this point, one of our excellent writers * seems to have 
 fallen into an error, by not distinguishing between taste, and 
 disordered appetite. He says that " the sensation of taste 
 acquires an enhanced degree of pleasantness," as the habit 
 of drinking advances. On the contrary, we believe that the 
 drunkenness, which he says, in just and forcible language, 
 " presses him like a coat of iron and galls like fetters of 
 steel," so injures his taste, that his enjoyment from it be- 
 comes far less vivid than at first ; while, at the same time, 
 
 * Upham's Mental Philosophy, p. 61. 
 11* 
 
126 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the craving of his sinking sensibilities, the feverish appetite, 
 is so enhanced, that he is compelled to cry out in agony for 
 another dram, even though the dreadful scowl upon his face 
 when he drinks it — so unlike the smiling pleasure which 
 danced there at first — tells us plainly that it has become to 
 him as wormwood and gall. And this is the most terrific 
 view of intemperance. Such is the irrepealable law of our 
 nature : — Every time we pass over the limits of strict vir- 
 tue, we invade the integrity of our taste, and thus diminish 
 the pleasure attending the use of heaven's bounties ; while, 
 at the same time, we increase the demands of a false ap- 
 petite. 
 
 The same is true of all pleasures, in which the mind is 
 passive, when not under the law of absolute temperance. 
 " Experience diminishes the influence of passive impressions 
 on the mind, but strengthens our active principles. A 
 course of debauchery deadens the sense of pleasure, but in- 
 creases the desire of gratification. An immoderate use of 
 strong liquors destroys the sensibility of the palate, but 
 strengthens the habit of intemperance." * 
 
 The sensation of taste is impaired by habits of gluttony. 
 Experienced cooks have a very discriminating taste in regard 
 to dishes ; but although perpetually exercising it on a great 
 variety, they are usually quite temperate in the use of them. 
 It is said of one of the kings of England, that after he be- 
 came a glutton he would not trust his own taste to decide 
 upon the qualities of his dishes, but referred the decision to 
 his cook. He showed his good sense in this, at least, that he 
 would not venture his reputation in attempting to pronounce 
 upon a dish, before his assembled court at feast, without 
 taking counsel of better authority than his own impaired 
 taste. 
 
 The inebriate, too, cannot safely trust his own taste to 
 select the wines for his banquet. Even if his discrimination 
 was once good, it is so no longer:-— he must have recourse 
 to the dealer in wines — a person in whom temperance has 
 preserved the naturalness of taste, while careful tasting has 
 rendered it discriminating. A pure, delicate, natural taste, 
 
 * Stuart's Philosophy, B. I, p. 289. 
 
SENSATION. 127 
 
 is a great and constant source of enjoyment. To him who 
 has it, appetite is healthy, relish is keen, participation satis- 
 fies desire, the cup of sensuous pleasure is full. Every 
 morsel of food, however plain, every article of drink — even 
 a glass of cold water — is a luxury ; a truer, more enviable 
 luxury, than the intemperate ever experience, even at the 
 most sumptuous entertainment. 
 
 IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSATION OF HEARING. 
 
 The sense of hearing, like all the others, is improved by 
 appropriate and diligent use, in connection with temperate 
 and virtuous habits. It is indeed astonishing to what a pitch 
 of discrimination this sense may be elevated, by a persever- 
 ing course of right training. I was acquainted with a blind 
 man in Boston, now dead, whose sense of hearing had ac- 
 quired such accuracy and quickness, that he seldom failed 
 to recognize any person by his voice, with whom he had at 
 any former time conversed. His ears did actually more for 
 him, in this respect, than the eyes of most persons do for 
 them. His business was to tune pianos. As he walked the 
 busy streets of the metropolis alone from house to house on 
 his business, he knew when he passed a building, a corner, 
 or a post, by the change which they occasioned in the vibra- 
 tory motions of the air. He could tell by the ear, with as 
 much exactness as most can by the eye, the dimensions and 
 form of any room which he entered, the height of a person 
 with whom he was conversing, and the magnitude and form 
 of buildings which he passed. Philosophy teaches us that 
 these causes must produce their several effects upon the 
 atmospheric movements, and that these must act upon the 
 drum of the ear ; but how few of us ever thought of attend- 
 ing to them. Such examples show what may be done, in 
 the way of improving this sense. 
 
 The blind are notorious for their musical taste and skill, 
 owing to the great care they bestow upon the sense of hear- 
 ing. And persons not blind have sometimes rivalled their 
 afflicted brethren in this particular. Men of naturally dull 
 ear, have, by a course of training, brought it to an uncom- 
 
128 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 mon degree of acuteness. It is somewhere said of a young 
 man, whose ear was so dull that he could not distinguish 
 between Old Hundred and Yankee Doodle, that by a perse- 
 vering study and observation of musical sounds, he at length 
 became a very discriminating critic, and a skilful performer 
 of the most elaborate harmonies. 
 
 Young persons can scarcely be too much urged, to im- 
 prove to the height of their ability the sense of hearing. It 
 is not partial deafness, or the reverse, of which I speak ; — 
 it is of the quality of the hearing, not the quantity. Many 
 a person almost deaf has, in the sense I intend, a good ear ; 
 while others, whose hearing is perfect, have a very bad ear.* 
 I refer to that quick and nice discrimination, which makes 
 the mind sensible to the numerous melodies and harmonies 
 of music, and to the varying tones and inflections of human 
 eloquence, by which the soul of man puts itself forth into 
 the souls of his fellow men ; to the myriad tongues of nature, 
 calling from hills, dales, forests, and skies, to reach and 
 move our hearts ; to the repeated words of .teachers, labor- 
 ing at the ear with incessant toil, to pour the lessons of wis- 
 dom into the understanding ; — in short, to all those voices 
 from around and above us, which ought to be heard, to 
 render us wise and happy. 
 
 Every teacher of youth has observed, how much more 
 easily a pupil learns a language, by having the sense of 
 hearing well cultivated. Most people are unapprised how 
 much depends upon this. Especially in learning a spoken 
 language, almost every thing depends upon it. What the 
 sense of hearing clearly discerns, we easily remember, and 
 learn to utter. 
 
 * The sense of hearing is often uncommonly keen in persons al- 
 most deaf, owing perhaps to the fixed attention which they arc compelled 
 to give. The fault is wholly in the organ. When I speak of a good or 
 bad ear, of the eye seeing, &c., I conform to the popular use of language, in- 
 dicating by the name of the organ the sense of which it is the instrument. 
 "When the workman says his axe cuts well, his meaning is that he cuts 
 well, in the use of a sharp tool; otherwise, the tool, not he, ought to be 
 paid for the service. As the best of workmen do poorly with bad tools, 
 so the hrightest mental endowment may be frustrated by the capacity of 
 its organ. This must excuse my frequent reference to the importance of 
 taking the best possible care of the body, if we would have clear and effi- 
 cient minds. 
 
SENSATION. 129 
 
 IMPROVEMENT OP THE SENSATION OP TOUCH. 
 
 I have spoken of the great delicacy of nervous organiza- 
 tion at the ends of the fingers. Proof of this, as well as of 
 the extent to which the sensation of touch may be improved, 
 is furnished in the case of the blind. Let any person who 
 has not bestowed special culture upon the sense of touch, 
 close his eyes, and undertake to read the blind man's book 
 with the ends of his fingers, and he will be as much confound- 
 ed as though he were attempting for the first time to read 
 Chinese. By careful training, the blind pupil has so edu- 
 cated the touch, that he can read with it as accurately as 
 others can with the eye. 
 
 In the same way he learns even to distinguish colors. 
 Some writer mentions the instance of a blind female, who 
 would tell every red from every white or black piece of cloth 
 upon the counter in a shop, by simply feeling of it. Such 
 facts seem at first incredible, and we are half inclined to sus- 
 pect some deception ; but they are well authenticated, and 
 after all not incredible. For what is color ? It is something 
 in the light — the medium — through which objects are seen ; 
 and the reason why one object reflects black and another 
 red is, that the material upon the surface is different. This 
 material is a subject of touch. The person in question, if 
 always blind, had really no just idea of colors ; but when 
 once told that a certain piece of cloth was red, she could 
 ever after by the touch identify all cloths of the same pecu- 
 liar feeling. It is not merely a difference of roughness and 
 smoothness, of regularity and irregularity of surface, that 
 makes the difference of colors ; for objects of all colors may 
 have this : — there is something peculiar in the feel of that 
 which reflects the several colors, which none but a highly 
 educated touch can discriminate. 
 
 The same skill and accuracy may be obtained by this sense, 
 in reference to all objects. " In the celebrated Dr. Saun- 
 ders, who lost his sight in very early youth, and remained 
 blind through life, although he occupied the professorship of 
 mathematics in the English University of Cambridge, the 
 touch acquired such acuteness that he could distinguish, by 
 
130 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 merely letting them pass through his fingers, spurious coins, 
 which were so well executed as to deceive even skilful judges 
 who could see." * 
 
 IMPROVEMENT OF THE SENSATION OF SIGHT. 
 
 No other of the sensations is susceptible of such a variety 
 and extent of improvement as this. By accustoming the eye 
 to view objects at a distance, the axis of vision may be so elon- 
 gated as to extend the sight almost indefinitely. Every 
 person who has crossed the ocean, has been struck with the 
 fact, that the sailor at a post of observation will discover a 
 ship, an iceberg, or a breaker, in the distance, long before 
 the passengers can discover the least sign of it. It is be- 
 cause he has accustomed his eye especially to this service. 
 
 On the other hand, the student, by habitually placing his 
 book near his eyes, contracts a shortness of vision, such that 
 he is often unable to recognize his most familiar friend, 
 when he passes him in the street. 
 
 The artist, by studiously habituating his eye to observe 
 colors, shades, forms, acquires an accuracy of perception in 
 regard to them, such as seems to most persons quite incom- 
 prehensible. The well trained inspector of wares discovers 
 a fault, where others see only perfection. The eye long 
 practised to examine proof-sheets, detects errors and defects, 
 which escape the notice of all other persons. The architect, 
 the gardener, the engineer, by a faithful education of the 
 eye, acquires wonderful quickness and accuracy of observa- 
 tion in respect to whatever pertains to his peculiar calling. 
 To adduce particular examples in proof of these assertions, 
 would be superfluous, because numerous facts in point are 
 familiar to all. 
 
 * Sec Upham's Philosophy, p. 64. The fact is taken from Memoirs of 
 the Manchester Philosophical Society, Vol. I., p. 164. 
 
SENSATION. 131 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 Before leaving the subject of Sensation, let us briefly sur- 
 vey our ground. 
 
 1. Sensations are mental affections produced by bodily 
 affections. They are purely mental, although they take 
 place in the affected parts of the body. The pain of the 
 gout is not in the head ; * nor is tooth-ache in the toe : — 
 yet both these pains are alike mental. 
 
 2. Although sensations may be popularly considered 
 simple affections, yet in strict accuracy they imply two men- 
 tal acts, — the change in the mind, and the consciousness of 
 it. There must be a change in the state of the mind, and 
 the mind must take cognizance of that change, or there can 
 be no sensation. The consciousness of a change, makes a 
 sensation. The consciousness of pain implies a sensation of 
 pain. We thus separate in thought, what is inseparable mfact. 
 This may seem a needless refining, but it is founded on the 
 distinction which physiology makes between the respective 
 offices of nerve and membrane : — the one being an instrument 
 of feeling, the other of knowing. Gut off the nerve from 
 any organ, and there can be no sensation, because the know- 
 ing power, the consciousness, cannot operate. 
 
 3. The mind is a living sentient being, communicating 
 with all parts of the body, but not identical with it, or with 
 any of its organs. To ascribe sensations to the organs of 
 sense, or to the brain, as their ultimate agent, is a doc- 
 trine of materialism utterly unsupported by evidence. Va- 
 rious causes affect the organs of sense, whereupon the sen- 
 tient mind as an agent, taking cognizance of that organic 
 change, is itself affected. Thus the organ is the physical 
 cause, and the mind the intelligent agent and subject of 
 
 * " The appropriate seat of the gout is in the great toe." Notes from 
 the Physiological Lectures of Dr. James Jackson, Boston. — If any sill 
 object to assigning localities to sensations, because they are mental, I 
 would ask, although the mind is the agent in obtaining education, may it 
 not be educated in different places'? It goes to various institutions, to 
 learn the various things which make its education complete. So it learns 
 its various lessons of sensation, in the several organs or schools which 
 God has constituted for this purpose. 
 
132 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 sensation. The organs of sense, then, are only the media, 
 or instruments of communication, between mind and mat- 
 ter. 
 
 4. This method of sensation, through bodily organs, is 
 merely by divine appointment. It is a temporary arrange- 
 ment. For any thing we can see, the same sensations may 
 be produced by other means than bodily organs. But for 
 reasons in the divine mind, all who live in the flesh must 
 realize their first sensations in bodily organs. After taking 
 its first lessons, the mind may repeat and enlarge its sensa- 
 tions, after the physical organs have ceased to act. This is 
 proved by facts, of which abundant evidence will be given. 
 Hence, the conscious activity of the mind beyond death, 
 and its experience of painful or delightful sensations is, in 
 a philosophical view, as probable as any other future 
 event. 
 
 Those who suppose that death divests us of all capacity of 
 experiencing sensations, because it divests us of the organs 
 of sense, should consider that sensations are strictly mental, 
 and that the mind is invested with powers of retention and 
 repetition, by which it can realize over and over again, in 
 endless varieties and combinations, sensations received 
 through the bodily organs, after those organs have ceased 
 to act. Suspend all the organs of sensation, so that the one 
 cannot supersede and counteract the other, and not only the 
 sensation, but the object of it, becomes to the mind a reality. 
 What the mind then perceives becomes a conception, replac- 
 ing as it were the very object itself. Such, we are to sup- 
 pose, is the condition of the mind between death and the resur- 
 rection. The sensations then experienced, had their origin 
 in this mortal body. The body dies ; — sensations may live ; 
 pleasurable or painful, according to the character and rela- 
 tions of the mind. The resurrection of the body will invest 
 us with other capacities, of a similar but higher nature. 
 
 5. Sensations give rise to our first ideas, and are thus 
 at the foundation of all our knowledge. They also give rise 
 to our first desires, and through them to affections and voli- 
 tions. Hence, as intellectual, social, and moral beings, as 
 well as subjects of pleasure and pain, we are ultimately de- 
 pendent on sensations. As we have these in common with 
 
SENSATION. 133 
 
 brutes, our superiority is not derived from greater or more 
 numerous capacities of sensation, but from the possession of 
 other and higher attributes, to be considered in their place. 
 Man and the brute start together with sensations, but the 
 brute, having nothing higher than the capacity for these, 
 soon runs his circuit and passes with his body to the dust ; 
 — man, having higher attributes, passes from mere animal 
 sensations to a higher mode of being. Such are the teach- 
 ings of philosophy, as enlightened by Christianity and sup- 
 ported by facts. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XL 
 
 What is the opening remark 1 "What does sensation involve ? What 
 is said of difference of capacities ? To what is it owing ? How may all 
 the organs of sensation be improved ? How injured ? Subjoined re- 
 marks. What is said of the reciprocal action of the sense and the organ ? 
 Illustration. What two advantages are secured to the senses by their 
 proper use ? How illustrated ? Remark. What is said of habit ? What 
 habits should young people endeavor to form ? What is said of the sen- 
 sation of smell ? What improvements have been made of this sensation ? 
 What habits are particularly injurious to it ? What is said of it as a 
 source of knowledge ? On what does the discrimination of taste depend ? 
 Illustration. Into what does unduly excited taste degenerate % The 
 consequence. What error is here noticed I How replied to 1 What is 
 Stewart's remark ? What is said of gluttony ? Of experienced cooks * 
 Anecdote. The inebriate % Concluding remarks on taste. What is im- 
 proving the sensation of hearing 1 Fact. For what are the blind noto- 
 rious ? What is said of a young man of remarkably dull ear ? What 
 constitutes what is called a good ear ? What has every teacher observed ? 
 What example is given of great improvement in the sensation of touch 1 
 What does some writer mention 1 Are such things incredible ? Why 
 not ? Has the person in question any just idea of colors ? What is said 
 here? Case of Dr. Saunders ? Comparative susceptibility to improve- 
 ment of the sensation of sight ? Illustration. The artist 1 Inspector, 
 &c. 1 What are sensations ? Where do they take place \ What two 
 things do they imply ? What two physical parts are essential to sensation 1 
 
 12 
 
134 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Of what is each the instrument ? What is the mind? May we ascribe sen- 
 sations to the organs of sense, or to the brain, as their agent ? What then 
 is the organ, as related to sensation % And what the mind, in this relation % 
 To what is this method of sensation referable 1 What may the mind do, 
 after taking its first lessons in sensation? The inference ? What is* said 
 respecting sensations after death ? To what do sensations giye rise ?'. 
 What is said of man and the brute in this connection ? 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 PERCEPTION. 
 
 No subject in intellectual philosophy has occasioned more 
 controversy than this. It has been involved with theories 
 respecting the nature of ideas, the origin of knowledge, the 
 reality of an external world. It was formerly connected 
 with the great dispute respecting nominalism and realism ; — 
 that is, with the metaphysical question, whether our ideas 
 are mere names, or realities existing in nature. The doc- 
 trine of realism — that our ideas are archetypes, according 
 to which all things in the external world are formed — pre- 
 vailed from the time of Aristotle till that of Roscellinus, in 
 the eleventh century. It was subsequently disputed, and 
 the controversy rose even to blood-shed r Among the more 
 modern nomalists, Reid and Stuart may be named. 
 
 It is certainly a question of great interest, under what 
 circumstances, and to what extent, we may trust our percep- 
 tions, to give us knowledge of the external world ? This is 
 the only question at issue, of any practical importance. 
 And to this will our principal inquiries be directed. To 
 review all the theories of the schools upon this subject, would 
 far transcend our limits, and serve rather to confuse than 
 edify the reader. If some of the following statements shall 
 seem too simple to need to be made, let it be remembered, 
 that the points defined have been subjects of endless contro- 
 versy. The greatest truths in science are often the simplest, 
 and yet the most difficult to state — strange as it may seem 
 — just because they are so simple. 
 
136 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PERCEPTION DEFINED. 
 
 Perception is the next mental act after sensation. It con- 
 ducts the mind, from sensation itself \ to its cause. It is a 
 more purely mental act, and of a higher order. Thus, I 
 have a painful sensation resulting from the prick of a pin ; — 
 perception reveals to me the cause of it. I taste something 
 bitter, perception discovers to me what that something is. 
 Riding out on a bright spring morning, my sense of smell is 
 regaled with a delicious odor ; — looking into the fields, I 
 perceive the cause of it, in the full blown orchards. Con- 
 sidered as a mental attribute, therefore, perception may be 
 defined, The power of discerning the causes of our 
 
 SENSATIONS. 
 
 INTUITIVE PERCEPTION. 
 
 Perception is also applied, in a less restricted sense, to 
 the mind's notice of metaphysical truths, mathematical axi- 
 oms, and the connection and force of argumentative reason- 
 ing. It is in such cases synonymous with intuition. The 
 individual mental acts here, are intuitive perceptions. We 
 may therefore consider them under the head of intuition. We 
 have the authority of the best classical writers on philosophy, 
 for abiding by the restricted definition of perception. 
 
 MUTUAL RELATIONS OF SENSATION AND PERCEPTION. 
 
 We now restrict our enquiries to perceiving by the 
 senses, and we ought to notice the mutual relations of sen- 
 sation and perception. When we realize a sensation, we 
 feel a desire to know the cause of it. Perception enables us 
 to gratify that desire. Hence, sensation is the prompter to 
 knowledge ; — perception is the obtainer of it. Sensation 
 sets the mind at work, perception accomplishes the under- 
 taking. Without sensation, we should never desire to know 
 any thing of the world around us ; and without perception, 
 however much we might desire the knowledge, we could 
 never obtain it. 
 
PERCEPTION. 137 
 
 MORE PARTICULAR DISTINCTIONS BETWEEN SENSATION AND 
 PERCEPTION. 
 
 As readers are wont to confound sensation with percep- 
 tion, and writers have often failed duly to distinguish be- 
 tween them, let us more particularly mark the difference. 
 They differ in these two respects. 
 
 1. Sensations have nothing to do ivithwhat is extraneous 
 to our minds. The organic change is necessary to the sen- 
 sation, but is not of itself any part of it. Strictly speaking, 
 the sensation begins and ends with the mind itself. Percep- 
 tion carries the mind quite out of itself to the causes of its 
 sensations. These causes, or objects of perception, may be 
 found in our own bodies, as well as around us, but never in 
 our minds ; — for what is in our minds, is known by con- 
 sciousness, not by perception. 
 
 2. All ideas obtained by sensations are cognitions. What 
 we experience, we know. But we cannot be said to experi- 
 ence causes. We experience the effects of causes ; — these 
 effects are sensations. But we know causes only by percep- 
 tion, and perception may deceive us. Hence, while our 
 sensations are subjects of positive knowledge, without any 
 question, our perceptions must be examined, before what 
 they profess to reveal is positively known. This examination 
 is our present task. 
 
 ENTITIES AND NON-ENTITIES. 
 
 The term entity is employed to designate any thing hav- 
 ing existence independently of our idea of it. It will be 
 recollected, that one of the questions of the schools was, 
 whether any thing really exists, excepting in idea. An 
 entity, then, is any thing that has actual existence ; so that 
 even an idea is itself an entity. The term entity is from a 
 Greek and a Latin word, which signifies whatever is. En- 
 tities include all abstract and necessary facts, such as time, 
 space, number, on which the exact sciences are built ; all 
 
 12* 
 
138 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 spiritual existences, virtues, vices, mental states; and material 
 substances, in all their forms. At present, we have to do 
 mostly with the latter, as these only are objects of perception 
 by the senses. Non-entity, is a term designating the oppo- 
 site of entity ; — that which has no existence, excepting in 
 idea. 
 
 OBJECTIVE AND SUBJECTIVE ENTITIES. 
 
 Objective entities are things themselves ; subjective entities 
 are our ideas of them. Of the latter, we are conscious ; but 
 how do we know the former exist ? I answer, First, all 
 ideas of material objects are derived from the objects them- 
 selves. This has been proved, in showing that a man blind 
 from his birth has no idea of colors ; a man deaf from his 
 birth, no idea of sounds, &c. To deny the reality of ob- 
 jective entities, is then to admit an effect without a cause. 
 If the one exist — and that it does we are conscious— 
 the other must exist. Secondly, our combined senses teach 
 us that there are objective entities, as truly as our con- 
 sciousness does, that we have ideas of them. I take an 
 orange in my hand, look upon it, feel of it, cut it, smell it, 
 taste it, and thus obtain the direct testimony of my senses to 
 its existence and qualities. The orange itself, not the idea 
 of it, is now the subject of my attention. Afterwards, in 
 the absence of the orange, I have only the idea of it. I am 
 conscious of having this idea, and know experimentally that 
 whatever it is, it is not the orange itself. I should perhaps 
 be very glad if it were. But it is neither round, yellow, 
 fragrant, nor delicious ; it has no form ; I can neither handle, 
 cut, nor eat it. Yet it is something, — it is a real idea, — 
 and an idea of that orange. We thus see the distinction 
 between objective and subjective entities, and that both have 
 actual existence. 
 
 TRUE PERCEPTIONS. 
 
 < Those perceptions are true, in which our ideas correspond 
 with their objective entities ; — that is, in which we perceive 
 things to be what they really are. We must however 
 
PERCEPTION. 139 
 
 remember, that there is no resemblance between our ideas of 
 entities, and entities themselves. A stone is a solid sub- 
 stance ; — our idea of a stone is not a solid substance, nor 
 any thing like it. What then do we mean, when we speak 
 of our ideas corresponding with their objective entities? 
 Simply this, — that the difference between entities is repre- 
 sented by some corresponding difference of ideas ; so that a 
 given idea becomes to us the exclusive representative of its ap- 
 propriate object. Such is our mental constitution, that the 
 same entity, when fairly noticed, always produces in the 
 mind the same representative idea. If this were not so, we 
 could not have that mutual understanding of things around 
 us, which enables us, in their absence, to converse about 
 them. * Although my idea of fire is not like fire, nor my 
 idea of water like water, yet, when I have an idea of fire, 
 or an idea of water, I have the same object in view which 
 my neighbor has, when he has an idea of the one, or 
 of the other. Why ideas, so wholly unlike objects without 
 us, should yet become representatives of them, is a question 
 of curiosity beyond our reach. We can only say, it is so, 
 because God has made it so to be. The reason why he has 
 done it, none can fail to see. The world would otherwise 
 have been a babel. It is perhaps no more strange, after all, 
 than that words, so unlike the things they represent, should 
 yet be made to represent them. The one is of human edu- 
 cation, the other of divine constitution. Nor is the case ma- 
 terially altered, whether we adopt Brown's theory, that ideas 
 are only mental states, or the theory, that they are some- 
 thing distinct from the mind. 
 
 * " In all our reflections on absent entities, and our attempts to classify 
 them, our ideas of their properties, and not the properties themselves, are 
 the subjects of our attention. We spend our whole life in acquiring men- 
 tal representatives of different entities in the universe ; but can classify 
 these entities only by comparing and arranging the ideas thus obtained." 
 — " All men have the same uniform representatives of entities ; hence, 
 they can converse intelligibly about them. If the same entity afforded to 
 different persons different representatives of itself, men could no more 
 converse intelligibly about it, than if they did not understand the same 
 language." Schmuker's Psychology, pps. 38, 65. 
 
140 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 EXAMPLES OF TRUE PERCEPTION. 
 
 I observe what appears to be an animal grazing in the 
 field. It looks to me like a horse ; — that is, the idea which 
 I am led to form of it, is that of a horse. If the animal 
 really is a horse, my perception is true. It must be remem- 
 bered, that the perception gives the idea, not the idea the 
 perception. On this point the schoolmen were exactly wrong. 
 They supposed the idea innate — existing in the mind before 
 the object is seen — and that it gives rise to the perception. 
 A friend presents to me a flower, and asks me, of what kind it 
 is. I look at it, smell of it, and perceive it to be what is 
 called a pink. If my perception is true, the flower really is 
 what I perceive it to be. Thus in all cases, when the idea 
 corresponds with the object, the perception is true. We 
 then have what Locke calls an adequate idea. The reader 
 must excuse the apparently unnecessary illustration of what 
 seems so simple. The importance of the subject, and the 
 mystery which has so much enveloped it, is the apology. 
 
 FALSE PERCEPTIONS. 
 
 Those perceptions are false, in which our ideas do not 
 correspond with their entities ; — that is, in which we do not 
 perceive things to be as they really are. They may arise 
 from three causes, a fault of the organ, a fault of the medium, 
 a fault of the mind. First, some defect in the organ of sense 
 may occasion false perceptions. When any instrument, as a 
 telescope, is out of order, it often reports falsely. Secondly, 
 the medium through which objects are perceived, may pro- 
 duce an illusion. Objects seen through a mist, or through 
 imperfect glass, or by reflected rays, may be falsely painted 
 on the retina, and thus deceive us. Thirdly, hallucinations, 
 or certain deranged states of intellect, may also give rise to 
 false perceptions. 
 
PERCEPTION. 141 
 
 EXAMPLES OF FALSE PERCEPTIONS. 
 
 A person under the influence of a disease, which particu- 
 larly affects the organ of taste, was requested by a friend, 
 who wished to experiment upon her discrimination of flavors, 
 to eat some brown sugar. Not being told what it was, she 
 put it in her mouth, and immediately rejected it, supposing 
 it to be sand. The diseased organ of taste was insensible 
 to sweet, and the sensation being that usually produced by 
 taking dry sand into the mouth, led to a false perception. 
 A person looking through a pain of uneven glass, perceived, 
 as he supposed, a man murdering a child with an axe. The 
 man was really several feet from the child, splitting wood, 
 and the child was gathering some sticks in his arms. A man 
 entering a large hotel, was making rapid strides through its 
 spacious hall, when he suddenly dashed against a mirror. 
 The reflected rays from the mirror had doubled the apparent 
 length of the hall, and thus deceived him. In all these cases 
 the mind was true, being deceived by the means with which 
 it operated. Examples, in which the mind is in fault, will be 
 given under the head of insanity. 
 
 HOW WE MAY KNOW WHETHER OUR PERCEPTIONS ARE TRUE. 
 
 This has been one of the most important and disputed 
 points in mental science. Is there an external world? And 
 if there is, how may we know it? Some have concluded, 
 with Berkeley, that there is none, but that all which passes 
 with us for it exists merely in idea. Others have concluded, 
 with Hume, that for ought we can tell, there may be one and 
 may not. 
 
 Under the head of objective and subjective entities, I 
 have adduced what appears to be one conclusive proof of the 
 objectivity of our ideas. But the exact point now is, how we 
 may know the truth or falseness of any particular perception. 
 There is a way of testing perceptions ; and, when duly tested, 
 the knowledge they afford may be as firmly relied upon, as 
 that afforded by our sensations. I may as certainly know 
 
142 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the reality of an object before me, or in my hands, as that of 
 the pain which I feel in my tooth. 
 
 For the present, we will suppose the organs of sense and 
 the mind in a sound state. Let the following particulars be 
 noticed. 
 
 PHYSICAL ENTITIES ARE KNOWN BY CONTACT. 
 
 The influence of physical entities is always exerted by 
 actual contact with the organ. Thus, in smelling, the olfac- 
 tory organs are touched by particles emanating from the 
 odorous body. Place that body in a close vessel, and there 
 is no odor from it. In tasting, the gustatory organs are 
 touched by the thing tasted. Let those organs be coated, 
 and there is no taste. In hearing, the drum of the ear is 
 struck by the atmospheric vibrations. Cut off these vibra- 
 tions from the ear, or paralyze the auditory nerve, and 
 nothing is heard. In vision, the organ of sight is touched 
 by the rays of light coming from the object viewed. Cut off 
 these rays from contact with the eye, and nothing is seen. 
 
 Such being the fact, we may at once dismiss all specula- 
 tions and difficulties respecting the passage of impressions to 
 the mind, by nervous fluids, cerebral vibrations, &c, and 
 also respecting intervening ideas, or images, which might give 
 rise to false perceptions. The naked truth comes to be this. 
 Here is a sense, with its organ. When something actually 
 touches that organ, an impression is made, and the attentive 
 mind knoivs it. This is sensation. And now, can the mind 
 take another step and know infallibly what that something is f 
 I maintain that it can. 
 
 EACH ENTITY IS ORIGINALLY KNOWN BY ITS APPROPRIATE 
 
 SENSE. 
 
 Until our perception is educated, so to speak, we must 
 rely, for the absolute accuracy of it, on that sense only which 
 is originally appropriate to the object. A great source of 
 doubt, in regard to our perceptions, has arisen from relying 
 on the wrong sense. Thus, when we rely upon the eye, in a 
 
PERCEPTION. 143 
 
 case where any thing but colors is to be perceived, we may 
 be liable to deception. Let the reader, then, refer to what 
 has been said in relation to the specific office of each sense. 
 
 The greatest source of false perceptions is the eye. It is 
 so much more easy and rapid an instrument of perception 
 than the hand, that we are led to place ultimate reliance 
 upon it. But all must admit, that if we had no evidence of 
 an external world, excepting what the eye affords, we could 
 not know that such a world exists. Every man has had 
 optical illusions enough practised upon him, to have learned 
 this. But when the hand is applied, all illusion, if there was 
 any, is dispelled; and the mind knows whether the percep- 
 tion is true, 
 
 ENTITIES MAY ALSO BE KNOWN BY OTHER THAN THEIR 
 APPROPRIATE SENSES. 
 
 When one sense has become accustomed to take the place 
 of another, we may ordinarily trust its decisions. For in- 
 stance, although we must originally rely upon the touch for 
 our knowledge of objects around us, yet when the eye has 
 been trained, we may in most cases depend upon its percep- 
 tions. It was obviously designed to supply the place of the 
 hand, as a more rapid and convenient instrument ; and, when 
 properly taught, it will do it with entire accuracy. And 
 this teaching of it comes as a matter of course. All persons, 
 favored with sight from infancy, have so disciplined their 
 eye, that in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred it does not de- 
 ceive them. When they ride in the country, they do not need 
 to descend from their carriage into the fields, and put their 
 hands upon every object they see, to make their perceptions 
 sure. When they look upon a great city, they need not thread 
 the streets, and lay their hands on all parts of all the build- 
 ings, to be certain that they are not mere " castles of airy 
 fancy. " When they meet their friends, they need not feel 
 them, in order to be sure that their perceptions are true, and 
 that there is no risk in tendering to them their welcome. 
 Indeed, the eye has been so accustomed to notice them, that 
 it has become a more certain instrument than the hand. 
 
144 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 All civil courts rely upon the testimony of the eye. Men 
 are arraigned, tried, condemned, executed, on the mere tes- 
 timony of the eye, where only that of the hand is our original 
 and ultimate reliance. How idle, then, the speculations of 
 those philosophers, who would bring the reality of all we see 
 into doubt. 
 
 HOW THE ORGANS OP SENSE ARE TESTED. 
 
 I have said, that our organs of sense may be in a state to 
 deceive us. How can we know whether they are so ? I 
 answer, by comparing our perceptions with those of mankind 
 in general. Disorder is the exception, not the rule. The 
 perceptions of the great body of mankind are the standard. 
 If, for instance, all objects present to me one color, where 
 others see a variety, I am to infer that my organ of vision is 
 disordered, and must not trust it. If I do, I am liable to 
 take silver for gold. So, also, if my taste, smell, &c. are con- 
 tradicted by the perceptions of mankind in general, I am to 
 infer some organic derangement. Cases of organic defect, 
 like the above, sometimes occur; and they are easily de- 
 tected. 
 
 HOW THE MEDIA OP PERCEPTION ARE TESTED. 
 
 Media of perception are tested by experiment. A rod, 
 with one end under water, looks crooked. Take it from the 
 water, and it looks straight. We thus learn that the appar- 
 ent crookedness of the rod was owing to the medium in which 
 a part of it was seen. A stump, seen through a dense mist, 
 may look like a man ; — after the mist has gone, it looks 
 like itself. To a person having on green spectacles, all crea- 
 tion looks green ; — even the dazzling sun is of a sickly hue.' 
 Take them off, and creation resumes her natural colors. In 
 this way children amuse themselves ; and experiment teaches 
 them, long before they reach manhood, what philosophers 
 have so often failed to learn — when they may rely upon their 
 perceptions. 
 
PERCEPTION. 145 
 
 HOW THE SANITY OF THE MIND IS TESTED. 
 
 Supposing the organs of sense sound, and the media of 
 perception understood, the mind may be in fault, and how is 
 this to be known ? No man may be his own judge. The 
 very fact that a man's intellect is disordered, disqualifies him 
 for this office. Judgment passes from his mind to that of 
 others. When others see him the unhappy victim of false 
 perceptions, which can be refered to no cause but the mind, 
 the case is too painfully clear to justify withholding the mer- 
 ciful appliances due to an insane person. 
 
 These, then, are the conditions under which we may know 
 whether our perceptions are true. The question which we 
 have started, is answered. If we are sure the right sense is 
 applied, the organ sound, the medium proved, the mind sane 
 — and sure we may be — what we think we perceive, we 
 certainly do perceive. Under these circumstances, what we 
 learn by perception is as certain knowledge as what we learn 
 by sensation. 
 
 PERCEPTION PRE-STJPPOSES ATTENTION." 
 
 There can be no perception without some kind of atten- 
 tion. The mere presence of an object to the organ of sense, 
 does not make us perceive it. The image of an object upon 
 the retina, does not of itself make us see the object. Thou- 
 sands of pictures of objects are every day impinged on the 
 retina of the eye, of which no notice is taken ; — myriads of 
 vibrations on the ear, of odorous particles in the organ of 
 smell, of things touching our bodies, are not perceived, for 
 want of attention. As it is the mind that perceives, if 
 its attention is diverted or wanting, there can be no per- 
 ception. 
 
 It has been previously shown, that even sensation supposes, 
 at least, involuntary attention, and there can be no perception 
 without sensation. Other things equal, the more fixed the 
 attention, the more clear and accurate will be the per 
 ception. 
 
 13 
 
146 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PROCESS OF PERCEPTION. 
 
 Is the full perception of an object strictly instantaneous, 
 or is it gradual ? My opinion favors the theory, that it is 
 to some extent gradual ; although so unfortunate in this par- 
 ticular as to differ somewhat from Dugald Stewart, and also 
 from Prof. Upham, who quotes him with approbation. As 
 most that Stewart says, on this point, expresses what I would 
 wish to say, I will quote him entire, and then notice what I 
 judge erroneous. " Suppose the eye," he says, " fixed in 
 a particular position, and the picture of an object to be 
 painted on the retina. Does the mind perceive the complete 
 figure of the object at once, or is this perception the result 
 of the various perceptions we have of the different points in 
 the outline ? With respect to this question, the principles 
 already stated lead me to conclude, that the mind does at 
 one and the same time perceive every point in the outline 
 of the object, ( provided the whole of it be painted on the 
 retina at the same instant, ) for perception, like conscious- 
 ness, is an involuntary operation. As no two points, how- 
 ever, of the outline are in the same direction, every point, 
 constitutes just as distinct an object of attention to the mind, 
 as if it were separated by an interval of empty space from 
 all the rest. If the doctrine, therefore, formerly stated be 
 just, it is impossible for the mind to attend to more than one 
 of these points at once ; and as the perception of the figure 
 of the object implies a knowledge of the relative situation of 
 the different points, with respect to each other, we must con- 
 clude, that the perception of figure by the eye, is the result 
 of a number of acts of attention. These acts of attention, 
 however, are performed with such rapidity, that the effect, 
 with respect to us, is the same as if the perception were 
 instantaneous." 
 
 " In farther confirmation of this reasoning, it may be re- 
 marked, that if the perception of visible figure were an im- 
 mediate consequence of the picture on the retina, we should 
 have, at the first glance, as distinct an idea of a figure of a 
 thousand sides, as of a triangle or a square. The truth is, 
 that where the figure is very simple, the process of the mind 
 
PERCEPTION. 147 
 
 is so rapid, that the perception seems to be instantaneous ; 
 but when the sides are multiplied beyond a certain number, 
 the interval of time necessary for these different acts of 
 attention becomes perceptible." 
 
 " It may, perhaps, be asked, what I mean by a point in the 
 outline of a figure, and what it is that constitutes this point 
 one object of attention ? The answer, I apprehend, is, that 
 this point is the minimum visibile. If the point be less, we 
 cannot perceive it ; if it be greater, it is not all seen in one 
 direction. If these observations be admitted, it will follow, 
 that, without the faculty of memory, we could have had no 
 perception of visible figure." * 
 
 These observations are ingenious, and seem to be in the 
 main sound and instructive. With some exceptions, they 
 are what we should all probably wish to say on the subject 
 of perception. The exceptions which I would make are 
 these : — He supposes perception without attention, and on 
 the ground that " perception is an involuntary operation," 
 concludes that " the mind does at one and the same time 
 perceive every point in the outline of the object, provided 
 the whole of it be painted on the retina at the same instant." 
 Attention is partly voluntary, and partly involuntary.! In- 
 voluntary, when something is addressed to the sensibilities 
 so urgently as to force attention ; voluntary, when the at- 
 tention is designedly given : — now, the reasons before 
 assigned seem conclusive, that without some attention there 
 can be no perception. My inference is, " that the mind 
 does " not " at one and the same time perceive every point 
 in the outline of the object," but that its final perception is 
 the result of several combined perceptions. The only differ- 
 ence between us, is, Stewart supposes that the mind per- 
 ceives "every point in the outline of the object," at once, 
 but does not attend to it ; whereas, I suppose the mind does 
 not perceive the whole at once, for the want of the requisite 
 attention. The want of this attention he allows, and there- 
 fore, placing attention in the relation of a necessary means of 
 perception, his argument is a beautiful and conclusive one in 
 favor of the view which I have maintained. 
 
 * Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 78. 
 
 t This subject will be more fully considered under the head of attention. 
 
148 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XII. 
 
 What is said of controversies on the subject of perception ? What is 
 the only important question at issue ? What is said of the greatest truths 
 in science ? What is perception, considered as a mental act ? What, con- 
 sidered as a mental attribute ? What is intuitive perception 1 To what are 
 present enquiries restricted 1 What are the relative offices of sensation 
 and perception ? In how many respects do sensation and perception 
 differ ? First ? Second ? What is an entity ? What do entities include ? 
 What is a non-entity ? Objective entities 1 Subjective ? How do we know 
 the latter ? How, frst, do we know the former ? How, secondly ? — Illus- 
 trate. What perceptions are true 1 What must we remember ? What 
 do we mean, when we speak of ideas corresponding with entities ? Illus- 
 trate. Why do ideas, so unlike their objects, represent them 1 Remarks. 
 Give examples of true perception. Does perception give the idea, or the 
 idea the perception % What is said of the schoolmen 1 What are false 
 perceptions'? Erom what may they arise ? First cause? Second 1 Third! 
 Give examples of false perception. What has been one of the most impor- 
 tant and disputed points ? What have Berkeley and others concluded ? 
 What Hume and others 1 What is now the exact point 1 What is said 
 of testing perceptions ? How are physical entities known 1 Illustrations } 
 Inference 1 By what is each entity originally known ? What is the 
 greatest source of false perceptions 1 What must all admit ? What may 
 we do after one sense has become accustomed to take the place of another ? 
 Examples. What is said of civil courts 1 How may we test our organs 
 of sense ? Example ? How may we test the media of perception ? Ex- 
 ample. How may we test the sanity of the mind % What does per- 
 ception pre-suppose ? Remarks. Other things equal, on what does 
 clearness and accuracy of attention depend ? Is the full perception of an 
 object instantaneous or gradual ? Let the reader examine what is said, and 
 give his own opinion. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 CONCEPTION. 
 
 We have now reached the point where we may suppose 
 the ideas of the external world fairly presented to the mind. 
 It is believed that the way has been pointed out, by which 
 we not only obtain our ideas of things around us, but by 
 which we may certainly know that those ideas are correct. 
 The next subject in course is conception. Considered as a 
 mental faculty, it is, in the strictest sense, that power by 
 which we form notions of absent objects of perception and of 
 past sensations. 
 
 This definition will be best understood by an example. 
 A man has visited Niagara Falls, and perceived the sublime 
 object there displayed. After returning home, that object 
 frequently comes up to his mind afresh. While standing 
 upon the banks of the river and looking upon the cataract, 
 he had a perception of it ; the recurrence of that object to 
 his mind, after returning home, is a conception of it. The 
 mind first perceives the object, before it conceives it ; and it 
 never conceives a physical object but in its absence. Per- 
 ception is the introduction of a stranger ; conception the 
 entertaining of an acquaintance. The first looks at a thing; 
 the second takes it up, to hold it before the mind as an 
 object of contemplation. So of a sensation. It is first ex- 
 perienced, as a present reality ; it afterward recurs to the 
 mind, and is, as it were, felt over again ; thus the former 
 experience becomes a conception. 
 13* 
 
150 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 CONCEPTION OP SPECULATIVE TRUTHS. 
 
 The term conception is also applied, in popular language, 
 to abstract and metaphysical truths. It is thus used with 
 the same latitude assigned to perception. Dugald Stewart 
 says, " In ordinary language, we apply the same word, per- 
 ception, to the knowledge which we have, by our senses, of 
 external objects, and to our knowledge of speculative truths ; 
 and yet an author would be justly censured, who should 
 treat of these two operations of the mind under the same 
 article of perception. I apprehend there is as wide a dif- 
 ference between the conception of a truth, and the concep- 
 tion of an absent object of sense, as between the perception 
 of a tree, and the perception of a mathematical theorem." 
 There is, undoubtedly, the same difference in the one case as 
 in the other ; the instances are exactly parallel. In the 
 one case, it is an intuitive conception, in the other an intui- 
 tive perception. The perceptive and conceptive mental 
 acts sustain to each other the same relation, whether ap- 
 plied to internal or external objects. 
 
 FURTHER APPLICATION OF THE TERM. 
 
 Conception is also applied to the mental act, by which we 
 form a notion of objects described, or in any way represented. 
 A history, a drama, a play, furnishes materials of percep- 
 tion, from which the mind conceives the objects represented. 
 It is evident, that in all these cases, the mental act of con- 
 ceiving is essentially one and the same. 
 
 DISTINCTION BETWEEN CONCEPTION AND MEMORY. 
 
 At first view, conception may seem to be the same as 
 memory. But, on examination, it will appear that they 
 differ in essential particulars. They do certain things in 
 common, but each has also its peculiar offices. 
 
 Memory goes back to the time, place, circumstances, in 
 which objects were perceived. Conception has nothing to 
 
CONCEPTION. 151 
 
 do with all these.* It stays at home and takes the objects 
 there, as handed over to it by memory. The latter is 
 servant to the former. Memory collects the materials, 
 conception re-forms them into the semblance of the original 
 structure. " When a painter makes a picture of a friend, 
 who is absent or dead, he is commonly said to paint from 
 memory ; and the expression is sufficiently correct for com- 
 mon conversation. But in an analysis of mind, there is 
 ground for a distinction. The power of conception enables 
 him to make the features of his friend an object of thought, 
 so as to copy the resemblance ; the power of memory recog- 
 nizes these features as a former object of perception. Every 
 act of memory includes an idea of the past ; conception im- 
 plies no idea of time whatever." f 
 
 Moreover, an object is often conceived on representations, 
 at the very time they are made. 
 
 DISTINCTION BETWEEN CONCEPTION AND IMAGINATION. 
 
 The distinction between conception and imagination may 
 not be at first so obvious. These also have some things in 
 common, but they have still distinct offices. Conception 
 takes all the materials which memory brings to it, and re- 
 forms them into the identical semblance of the original struc- 
 ture ; — Imagination selects such materials as it pleases, and 
 forms them into similar, varied, or quite original structures, 
 to suit the fancy. Hence, conception is re-formative ; im- 
 agination re-creative. Conception presents an exact tran- 
 script of the objects of perception. Imagination exhibits 
 them under every fanciful variety. A more particular 
 
 * Keid usually identifies conception with imagination. On the other 
 hand, owing probably to the common doctrine of ideas, Des Cartes, 
 Gassendi, Locke, Hume, and Berkeley, often identify it with perception. I 
 am, therefore, led to be what might otherwise seem unnecessarily ex- 
 plicit on these points. 
 
 t Stewart's Philosophy, Book I., p. 79. Shakespeare calls this power, 
 " The minoVs eye." 
 
 " My father ! Methinks I see my father ! " 
 
 " Where, my lord?? 
 
 " In my mind's eye, Horatio." 
 
152 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 account of memory and imagination, will be given under the 
 appropriate heads. 
 
 VIVIDNESS OF CONCEPTIONS. 
 
 There is a great difference between men, as to the vivid- 
 ness of their conceptions ; and, also, in the same man, between 
 his conceptions of different objects. Things which we have 
 seen, recur to us most readily. The sight of an object 
 paints it, as it were, upon the mind, in such vivid form and 
 color, as to leave less for conception to do. When once an 
 object has been clearly seen by the natural eye, there is 
 ever after an exact image of that object at the service of the 
 mind. That the form or image of an object greatly facili- 
 tates our conception of it, is a matter of universal experience. 
 How much more easily does the pupil conceive of the form 
 and movements of the earth, by looking upon an artificial 
 globe. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON CONCEPTION. 
 
 Another reason why we more easily conceive of objects of 
 sight than of others, is found in the influence of association. 
 All objects, which address the eye, are complex; they have 
 more or less of parts. If, then, only one part or feature 
 of the complex object is recalled, association helps to replace 
 the whole. There is presented, as it were, a variety of 
 points for the mind to lay hold of, in its attempts to recover 
 the object. The same association extends to surrounding 
 objects. 
 
 Objects of taste, smell, feeling, hearing, present no form 
 or image of themselves. There is nothing that they look 
 like ; nothing pictured to the mind, to assist in conceiving 
 them. Being also much more simple than objects of sight, 
 they present fewer points of apprehension. 
 
CONCEPTION. 153 
 
 INFLUENCE OF ATTENTION ON CONCEPTION. 
 
 In smelling, tasting, &c, the mind is mostly passive. 
 Comparatively little attention is demanded. It has been 
 already observed, that when we look upon an object, as a 
 picture, house, landscape, we do not embrace the whole at 
 the first glance. The mind takes up one point at a time, 
 and, by a process of active attention, rapidly combines them 
 into a whole. Now, it is a known law of mind, that what is 
 acquired with most effort, is ordinarily the most firmly re- 
 taine d. As the perception of an object becomes clear and 
 full, the conception of it becomes proportionately vivid. 
 An artist looks upon a fine picture. As he gazes, point 
 after point falls under his notice, until after perhaps hours 
 or days of attentive study, the picture is unfolded to his 
 perception in something of the minuteness and fullness of 
 its real excellence. He has mastered it. As his mind has 
 thus taken firm possession of it, ever after, when memory 
 serves, conception readily re-forms it. But let him merely 
 smell or taste of something, and the sensation comes and 
 goes in a moment. He is almost wholly passive in it ; it 
 flits through his mind, and is gone. It is, therefore, with 
 difficulty — a difficulty proportioned to the ease with which 
 it came — that he can afterwards recall it. 
 
 CONCEPTION OF MUSICAL SOUNDS. 
 
 Next to visible objects, sounds are most readily conceived. 
 This may be accounted for, first, because they require more 
 attention than objects of taste, smell, &c. ; secondly, because 
 they excite more deep mental feeling, and are therefore 
 better remembered ; thirdly, because they are attended 
 with more association of ideas ; and fourthly, because there 
 is more exact repetition. Precisely the same taste, smell, 
 or feeling, probably never recurs ; there is of these an end- 
 less variety of modifications, perpetually recurring, so as to 
 confuse the conception of any one of them. But musical 
 sounds are distinct, unique; the same note being struck 
 
154 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 over and over again. The perception of the sound thus 
 becomes exact, and the subsequent conceptions of it propor- 
 tionably distinct and vivid. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF HABIT ON CONCEPTIONS OF SIGHT. 
 
 Our conceptions may be indefinitely improved. " A person 
 accustomed to drawing, retains a much more perfect notion of 
 a building, or of a landscape, which he has seen, than any 
 one who has never practised that art. A portrait painter 
 traces the form of a human body from memory, with as little 
 exertion of attention as he employs in writing the letters 
 which compose his name." * I have known several persons, 
 whose conceptions were at first so feeble, that they could 
 hardly arrange the outlines of an absent object, by a course 
 of diligent training, succeed in such efforts admirably. 
 This was, perhaps, in part owing to the increase of mechan- 
 ical skill, but more to the increased clearness and vigor of 
 perception. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF HABIT ON CONCEPTIONS OF MUSICAL SOUNDS. 
 
 Scarcely less marked is the improvement of which con- 
 ceptions of sound are susceptible. The ear, nearly as much 
 as the eye, requires to be educated ; and this, especially, 
 in relation to musical sounds. Probably not one in a thou- 
 sand has a discriminating perception of melodies and harmo- 
 nies, until experience has taught him ; and until his percep- 
 tions of them become distinct, his conceptions must of course 
 be confused. 
 
 Through the mind of the inexperienced youth, the strains 
 of the opera float as a confused mass of pleasing sounds. 
 In process of time, his perceptions become discriminating ; 
 the strains then recur to him on days following the exhibi- 
 tion, not, as at first, in unmeaning confusion, but in the order 
 and beauty of well arranged harmonies. Nothing but the 
 knowledge of musical characters is wanting, to reduce them 
 to paper. When this knowledge is acquired, and the asso- 
 
 * Stuart's Philosophy, Book I., p. 81. 
 
CONCEPTION. 155 
 
 ciation is established between the notes and the sounds, a 
 person may mentally realize the most exquisite music, by 
 merely looking upon the notes. There is music in the mind, 
 though not in the ear. Beethoven is said to have composed 
 some of his finest pieces of music after he became deaf. 
 The music, in his mind, he imprinted on the page, and left it 
 to those blest with hearing to interpret, and give audible 
 utterance to his symbols. 
 
 CONCEPTION SUBSERVIENT TO DESCRIPTION. 
 
 It is believed, on good grounds, that a person of vivid 
 conception will write a better description of an absent than 
 of a present object. Conception never replaces all the 
 points perceived. It recalls those that made the deepest 
 impression — the most characteristic and important. And 
 these, seeing all the points of an object cannot be described, 
 are the right ones to be presented. The most successful 
 painter is he, who seizes upon the most characteristic fea- 
 tures of his subject, and exhausts his talents upon them. 
 This was eminently the method of the distinguished modern 
 artists, Peal and Stuart. For the same reason, the most 
 successful writer is he, who presents vividly the most strik- 
 ing and characteristic particulars of whatever he attempts 
 to describe. These are ordinarily the very particulars 
 which his conceptions furnish. 
 
 EACTS IN PROOF. 
 
 Thompson, the celebrated author of the Seasons, spent a 
 large part of his earlier years amid rural scenes. He after- 
 wards retired to a garret, in London, and there re-wrote those 
 glowing descriptions of country scenery, which have immor- 
 talized his fame. Homer and Milton, the princes of ancient 
 and modern poetry, were blind at the time they wrote, and 
 of course wrote solely from conception and imagination. 
 Young, Cowper, Scott, Campbell, Gray, were retired from 
 the busy scenes of the world, at the time they wrote. 
 Nearly all poetry and other descriptive compositions, have 
 
156 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 been written some time after, and at a distance from, the 
 time and place at which the objects described were seen. 
 
 IS CONCEPTION ATTENDED WITH BELIEF? 
 
 Some have supposed that every act of conception is 
 attended with a belief of the existence and presence of its 
 object. Of this number is Dugald Stewart. " Every 
 exertion of that power," he supposes, " is accompanied with 
 a belief, that its object exists before us at the present mo- 
 ment." In illustration of this he says, " When a painter 
 conceives the face and figure of an absent friend, in order 
 to draw his picture, he believes for the moment that his friend 
 is before him." * That this belief sometimes exists, in cases 
 of very vivid conception, I shall endeavor to show ; but that 
 this is ordinarily the case, most men will be slow to believe. 
 To draw the face and figure of an absent friend, is often the 
 work of days ; during all the time in which the canvass is 
 receiving the touches of the brush, the conception must be 
 sustained. Does the painter, during all this time, believe 
 that his friend is actually before him ? The exertion of the 
 power of conception must attend every touch of his brush, 
 and if this supposes the belief of the actual presence of its 
 object, how many husbands and fathers would wish to learn 
 the blessed art, and spend their lives in painting their 
 departed wives and children! Conception may be suf- 
 ficiently vivid for purposes of painting and describing, with- 
 out rising to the point here supposed. Nothing is gained 
 by pushing philosophy into the marvellous, or pressing a 
 theory beyond the sober dictates of common experience. 
 
 CASES OF SUPPOSED BELIEF ACCOUNTED FOR BY 
 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 A young man points a gun in sport at his sister. She 
 knows her brother would not shoot her for the world ; per- 
 
 * Stuart's Philosophy, Book I., p. 84, 
 
SENSATION. 157 
 
 haps she even knows that the gun is not loaded. There 
 can then be no belief, in any true sense of the term, that her 
 brother is about to shoot her. Still, she screams out with 
 terror. Having always associated the aiming of a gun with 
 the work of death, it has of itself become terrific. A law 
 of the nervous system explains this. It is said of a man 
 who had submitted to a very painful operation on his teeth, 
 that whenever he saw the surgeon's instrument, he felt the 
 pain renewed. This was not because he believed the opera- 
 tion again in progress ; it was clearly the effect of associa- 
 tion on his nervous system. 
 
 CASES OF REAL MOMENTARY BELIEF. 
 
 But there are other cases which seem to imply actual 
 belief. At an exhibition in a country village, some warrior 
 Indians were personified. When the terrific personages 
 leaped upon the stage, with their instruments of death, and 
 approached the front with menacing attitude, several of the 
 spectators near the stage leaped up, screamed with terror 
 and rushed violently away ; some fainted. It became 
 necessary to drop the curtain, to avert more serious conse- 
 quences. Some of those individuals afterwards said, that 
 at the moment referred to, they really thought those hideous 
 characters veritable murderous Indians. They thought, as 
 they expressed it, that they " were sent for." As soon as 
 they had time to think, they knew better, but at the moment 
 of excitement, their conceptions got the better of their 
 knowledge. 
 
 A little girl, who had lost her mother, was constantly 
 reminded of her by a faithful portrait suspended against the 
 wall. Into whatever part of the room the child went, the 
 mother's eyes seemed to follow her. She could indulge in 
 no forbidden acts, but those terrible eyes of rebuke were 
 upon her. She at last watched the opportunity, when none 
 were present, and with a knife scratched them out. She 
 then felt again at liberty. There seems to be no doubt 
 but that this child was troubled with such vivid conceptions, 
 in regard to what was denoted by those pictured eyes, that 
 14 
 
158 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 at times she really believed her mother was looking through 
 them upon her. 
 
 At an exhibition of jugglery, one of the feats to be per- 
 formed was that of cutting off the head of a fowl, and then 
 seeming to restore it to life. All of course knew it to be 
 a farce ; but so dexterously was the trick performed, that 
 at the moment the chicken flew up alive from the juggler's 
 hand, a simple man near by sprang from his seat, exclaim- 
 ing, " I would as lief have him cut off my head as not ; " 
 and was about advancing to have the experiment tried upon 
 him, when he came to his senses. Here, there seems to 
 have been a real illusion, a momentary belief* 
 
 VIEWS OF REID. 
 
 Br. Reid professedly rejects the idea of -belief attending 
 conceptions, and yet, in his explanations, virtually concedes 
 all that I have claimed. " I knew a man," he says, "who 
 was as much convinced, as any man, of the folly of the popu- 
 lar belief of apparitions in the dark ; yet he could not sleep 
 in the room alone, nor go alone into a room in the dark. 
 Can it be said, that his fear did not imply a belief of danger ? 
 This is impossible. Yet his philosophy convinced him that 
 he was in no more danger in the dark when alone, than with 
 company. Here, an unreasonable belief, which was merely 
 a prejudice of the nursery, stuck so fast as to govern his 
 conduct, in opposition to his speculative belief as a philoso- 
 pher and a man of sense." This admission can be recon- 
 ciled with Reid's expressed disavowal of belief attending con- 
 ceptions, only by supposing him to adopt the explanation of 
 some, who say, not wide of the truth, that they " believe 
 and don't believe at the same time." 
 
 * The above examples belong to the third class of conceptions, noticed 
 near the beginning of this chapter. All dramatic exhibitions, and others 
 analogous to them, are designed to awaken vivid conceptions of absent or 
 
SENSATION. 159 
 
 CONCEPTION ATTENDED WITH PERMANENT BELIEF. 
 
 Not only does the illusion sometimes rise to momentary 
 belief, but, in extraordinary instances, the belief has been 
 rendered permanent. I am not now speaking of cases of 
 insanity, which will fall under another head. Persons of 
 sane intellect have had conceptions so vivid, as to assume, 
 in their minds, the permanent character of realities. 
 
 I have personal knowledge of the following fact. A well 
 educated man, of the middle age, was deeply afflicted by 
 the death of a lady whom he was expecting to marry. He 
 stated that one night, as he was lying on his bed, thinking 
 upon the lost object of affection, suddenly the room became 
 light as noonday, and she stood by the side of him in full 
 form, the same as before her death. She was dressed in 
 white. She looked upon him with a smile, said she had 
 come from the happy world to comfort him, and must soon 
 return. She lifted her hands towards him, blessed him, 
 and vanished ; the room was again dark as before. Now, 
 we know all this to have been a mere conception ; the object 
 of previous perceptions having been re-placed by highly 
 excited feelings. But to this hour, the man in question 
 believes it to have been a reality. He as sincerely believes 
 that the room was actually illuminated, and that the form of 
 his friend, attended with her departed spirit, did actually 
 stand before him, as he believes any fact in history. Such 
 cases differ from those of monomamanism, as a momentary 
 illusion, resulting in permanent belief, differs from a perma- 
 nent illusion. 
 
 CONCEPTION GIVING LIFE TO INANIMATE OBJECTS. 
 
 When a man strikes his foot against a stone, or comes in 
 painful contact with any object in his way, his first impulse 
 is often a feeling of resentment towards the object. Some- 
 times he turns in rage to beat it. How shall we account 
 for this ? By association ? But it seems an instantaneous 
 impulse, and is most common in children, whose associations 
 are less formed than those of adults. But if the man is not 
 
160 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 angry at the offending object, because he associates it with 
 some living creature, against which he might be justly 
 angry, must he not at the moment conceive of some actual 
 blame in the object itself? The latter solution seems the 
 most reasonable. Blame supposes, of course, life and capa- 
 bility of punishment. " It seems impossible that there 
 should be resentment against a thing, which, at that very 
 moment, is considered as inanimate ; and consequently inca- 
 pable either of intending harm or of being punished. There 
 must, therefore, I conceive, be some momentary notion or 
 conception, that the object of our resentment is capable of 
 punishment." * 
 
 FALSE CONCEPTION FROM IMPERFECT PERCEPTION. 
 
 A false conception may precede or attend an imperfect 
 view of its object. A man walking out on a moonlight 
 evening, saw an object moving, as it seemed, just over the 
 fence in the field. He approached the fence, and conceived 
 it to be a woman, dressed in white, moving towards him. 
 He was not a believer in ghosts, but, for the moment, his 
 imagination mastered his philosophy. It was certainly a 
 woman, or the ghost of a woman ; possibly the latter. He 
 stopped ; the woman stopped also. He called ; no answer 
 came. Possibly, it was a creature in distress, unable to 
 speak ; so he summoned resolution to approach her, when 
 he perceived her to be nothing but a white birch stump. 
 The previous dimness of perception, aided by excited imagi- 
 nation, gave rise to the false conception. 
 
 FALSE CONCEPTION FROM EXCITED ANTICIPATION. 
 
 Sometimes, when the anticipation of seeing an object is 
 intensely excited, the presence of almost any thing awakens 
 in the mind a conception of the object expected. This case 
 differs from the preceding, in the fact, that here the illusion 
 
 * Rcid's Philosophy, Vol. IL, p. 385. 
 
SENSATION. 161 
 
 is owing to excited anticipation ; in the other, to defect of 
 vision. The following fact is somewhere stated. A father 
 and son were hunting a bear in a cornfield. The son passed 
 round to start the animal through a path, but not finding it, 
 was on his return through that path, when his father shot 
 him dead for the animal. The open path gave the father 
 opportunity for a fair view, but so filled was his mind with 
 anticipations of the bear, that he could see nothing else. 
 Men are often duped by false conceptions, arising from 
 over-ardent anticipations. 
 
 PROTRACTED FALSE CONCEPTION. 
 
 When dimness of vision is joined with wakeful and ex- 
 pectant imagination, the illusions of conception are still 
 stronger and more lasting. It is then no difficult task to 
 people the world, for hours together, with all kinds of our 
 own creations. The eye must needs see something, enough 
 to awaken imagination ; leaving as much as possible to be 
 conceived. Or, if we wish in a measure to bridle imagina- 
 tion, and confine the conception to a particular object, the 
 representation of that object should be made as distinctly 
 as possible, and all attending circumstances thrown into ob- 
 scurity ; — since, if what precedes, attends, and follows, is 
 kept in view, it will dispel the illusion. 
 
 It is on this principle, that scenic exhibitions are gotten 
 up. The surrounding world is shut out; artificial lights 
 put a new aspect upon things ; imagination is roused ; music 
 beguiles the soul, and leads it captive ; well arranged lights 
 and shades of the painted canvas, open to the eye a long 
 distance of fairy scenes ; and when the mind has thus been, 
 as much as possible, cut off from all connection with the 
 actual past and present, a brilliant picture, or representation 
 of the object to be conceived, is ushered in before it. At 
 such times, many a grave philosopher has lost his wisdom, 
 and been carried away captive by the illusions of imagina- 
 tion. He has conceived and felt, as actual realities, the 
 scenes of distress, of terror, of breathless anxiety, of gush- 
 14* 
 
162 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ing joy, represented before him. He has wept with sorrow ; 
 he has shuddered with fear ; he has held his breath with 
 suspense ; he has burst into raptures of joy ; he has thus 
 given the strongest evidence of a conceived reality at work 
 on his soul. 
 
 USES OF CONCEPTION. 
 
 What has been already said, indicates the importance of 
 this faculty in its relations to descriptive writing, poetry, 
 history, painting, and scenic exhibitions. It also enters into 
 the more profound and grave mental operations. We cannot 
 analyze a subject, we cannot reason upon it, we can exercise 
 no sound judgment upon it, until we have fairly conceived it. 
 The advocate at the bar, the preacher in the pulpit, the 
 statesman on the forum, are all, with the historian and the 
 poet, equally dependent on this faculty. It is a clear and 
 full conception of the subject, more than perhaps any thing 
 else, that gives brilliancy to description and poetry, force to 
 argument, soundness to judgment, and power to eloquence. 
 As conception is nearly allied to imagination, and by some 
 identified with it, other remarks, respecting its importance, 
 will be made in connection with the last mentioned faculty, — 
 especially those which respect its relations to Christianity. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 What point have we now reached 1 What is conception ? Illustration ? 
 To what else is the term conception applied ? What does Stewart say ? 
 To what else is the same term applied ? Is there a distinction between 
 conception and memory ? Explain it. Also the distinction between con- 
 ception and imagination. What is said of vividness of conceptions 1 Of 
 what things do we have the most vivid conceptions ? Illustration 1 What 
 is said of the influence of association? Of objects of taste, smell, &c. ? 
 What is said of the influence of attention on our conceptions ? Illustra- 
 tions ? What is said of musical sounds ? How is this accounted for, Jirst, 
 —secondly — thirdly —fourthly ? Are our conceptions susceptible of im- 
 
QUESTIONS. 163 
 
 provement ? Examples ? What is said of improvement of conceptions 
 of musical sounds 1 What is said of the subserviency of conception to 
 description 1 Eeasons ? State the facts in proof. Is conception attended 
 with belief of the existence and presence of its object % State the views 
 of Stewart. State what is said in reply. How are some cases of supposed 
 belief accounted for 1 Give the illustrations. Are there cases of unques- 
 tionable belief? State those given. Give the views of Reid. Are con- 
 ceptions ever attended with permanent belief ? Give the example. State 
 the instance of conception giving life to inanimate objects. How is this 
 accounted for ? State the example of false conception from imperfect 
 perception. Give the illustration of false conceptions arising from ex- 
 cited anticipation. What is said of protracted false conceptions ? Of 
 scenic exhibitions ? Of the uses of conception ? 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 OUR PRIMARY RATIONAL KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 It has been stated that our primary knowledge is of 
 two kinds, sensuous and rational. The former, we have 
 briefly considered. We began with the former, because our 
 first knowledge is from this source. Man starts at the lowest 
 point ; he learns his humblest lessons first. He is put to 
 school in the flesh, through its humble instrumentality to 
 learn the alphabet of that great volume, which is to unfold 
 to him its bright pages, long after the body shall have re- 
 turned " to the dust as it was." 
 
 OUR FIRST KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 At what period the mind begins to have any other knowl- 
 edge than that of a sensuous origin, it is impossible to tell. 
 Sensuous knowledge is certainly the first. Various sensa- 
 tions of touch, of heat and cold, of pleasure and pain, fall 
 early to the infant's lot. How much the mind learns from 
 these and other sensations, at this early period, none can 
 tell us. " One of the first natural sensations it has, " subse- 
 quent to birth, " upon which sensational phenomena can be 
 predicated, is that of hunger. Of this it must be conscious. 
 The sensation and consciousness of it, co-existing, constitute 
 its first experience. Whatever may bo the diversity in 
 human character, in this, their beginning experience, they 
 are alike. When the child nurses, combinations begin with 
 the outward world, and the blending of the mother's milk 
 with the gastric juice, produces the first sensation of hunger 
 gratified; and this is its second experience. Here, children 
 
CONCEPTION. 165 
 
 begin to differ from each other, in the ratio of their different 
 digestive sensations ; and the diversity of character begins. 
 The child now remains nearly stationary, till repeated ex- 
 periences, within very narrow limits of gratified hunger, enable 
 it to associate; then mental combinations begin to grow 
 rapidly, and memory combines itself with association, and 
 their mutual inter-action excites the imagination, and the 
 will to enjoy springs into being. The action and inter-action 
 of these attributes of sensation upon each other, constitute 
 the whole range of the infant's mind." * 
 
 Of the early ideas obtained by sensation, it is only by 
 cries, and smiles, and glances of the opening eye, that the 
 little stranger can ever speak to us ; for as yet he has no 
 other language ; — as to the future child, all is blotted from 
 the records of memory. We w T atch, however, in that kind- 
 ling countenance, and those significant movements, evident 
 tokens of growing intellect ; and long before language gives 
 us a free exchange of thought, he is found to have made con- 
 siderable progress, not only in that knowledge which comes 
 through the senses, but that which springs directly from the 
 mind. In respect to the former, however, he is far in ad- 
 vance of what he is in respect to the latter. 
 
 OUR INQUIRY CONFINED TO STRICT KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 It should be observed, that our inquiry is here restricted 
 to actual knoivledge of facts. It has been shown, that what 
 we learn directly, by the senses, is of this description. What 
 we feel, see, hear, taste, &c, we know. The sensations which 
 they produce, we know by consciousness ; the things them- 
 selves, by direct perception, without any process of ratiocina- 
 tion ; — without any proof whatever, except what our own 
 senses furnish. 
 
 Now, we have other sources of knowledge, as direct and 
 certain as these, not outward in the flesh, but inward in the 
 pure mind. Here, as in the preceding case, no reasoning 
 process is demanded, no proof wanted, but such as is imme- 
 
 * Laws of Causation, pp. 144, 145. 
 
166 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 diately furnished by the mind itself . This point should be 
 clearly settled ; for many have stumbled here. Distin- 
 guished intellects, in other respects wise, by laboring to 
 prove what was never designed to be proved, and therefore 
 cannot be proved — the proof being in itself — have only 
 " darkened counsel by words without wisdom," rendering 
 obscure what the Creator has made plain. 
 
 DIVERSITY OF VIEWS ON THIS POINT. 
 
 At no other point, in the whole range of mental science, 
 have philosophers diverged so widely as at this. Here, as 
 we have seen, is the grand point of difference between the 
 two great schools. Before John Locke wrote his famous 
 Essay on the Human Understanding, the prevailing conti- 
 nental philosophy gave the widest possible range to the in- 
 ternal or rational sources of knowledge, maintaining that the 
 mind is created with a fund of dormant ideas, wrapped up in 
 it, which the senses serve only to wake up ; that all external 
 nature is but the semblance or counterpart of ideas already 
 in the mind, and therefore incompetent to teach it. This 
 method of philosophizing, descending from the ancient Pla- 
 tonic school, originated in a lofty desire to exalt spirit over 
 matter, and restore to the soul the dominion and glory to 
 which it is entitled. The design was worthy of the great 
 minds which conceived it ; — the fault lay only in the means 
 which they took to accomplish it. It was in the infancy of 
 philosophy, that such imposing theories were framed ; — and 
 when imposing theories, sanctioned by great names, have, 
 from an early period, deeply imbedded themselves in modes 
 of thinking, it is the work of ages to root them out. 
 
 Moreover, there was something of truth in these theories. 
 Unmixed error cannot long survive. Great errors are 
 palmed upon the world, by virtue of the truths involved ivith 
 them; and when hoary headed association has identified 
 error with truth, it requires a bold original mind, with un- 
 common powers of discrimination, to enter successfully upon 
 the hazardous task of effecting a divorce. There is always, 
 in such cases, danger of going too far, and Removing truth 
 
CONCEPTION. 167 
 
 with error. Whether Locke actually did so, in reducing 
 the origin of all our knowledge to sensation and reflection, 
 philosophers are not agreed to this day. But one thing is 
 certain ; — some of his professed disciples have vibrated 
 widely to the opposite extreme of the errors which he 
 assailed, and have pressed his doctrine to the most absurd 
 and dangerous speculations. 
 
 MATERIALISM. 
 
 Some philosophers of the French school, especially, have 
 carried the sensuous theory into all the extravagant and re- 
 volting forms of materialism. They have conceived all the 
 interior workings of the mind to be nothing more than 
 " transformed sensations." " If we consider," says Condil- 
 lac, " that to remember, to compare, to judge, to distinguish, 
 to imagine, to be astonished, to have abstract ideas of num- 
 ber and duration, to know truths, whether general or parti- 
 cular, are but so many modes of being attentive ; that to 
 have passions, to love, to hate, to fear, to will, are but so 
 many different modes of desire ; and that attention, in the 
 one case, and desire, in the other, of which all these feelings 
 are modes, are themselves, in their origin, nothing more than 
 modes of sensation, we cannot but conclude, that sensation 
 involves in itself [envelope] all the faculties of the soul." 
 Dr. Thomas Brown remarks, " This system, by the univer- 
 sality of transmutation supposed in it, truly deserves the 
 name of intellectual alchymy ; " — and he justly adds, " The 
 doctrine, then, as exhibited by Condillac and his followers, 
 whatever merit it may have in itself, or however void it may 
 be of merit of any kind, is not the doctrine of him [Locke] 
 from whom it is said to be derived." * 
 
 * Brown's Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 329. 
 
168 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 TRANSCENDENTALISM. 
 
 In their attempts to rescue the mind from the grasp of a 
 debasing materialism, others have leaned strongly backward 
 towards the Platonic theory, and ascribed to man larger 
 sources of knowledge, independently of the senses, than 
 truth allows. They are of every grade, from the more free 
 pupils of the primitive school, to the more cautious disciples 
 of the Kantian system, and the yet more modern and mys- 
 tical forms of the Coleridgian philosophy. Here, then, we 
 have the modern extremes, materialism on the one hand, 
 and transcendentalism on the other. Which is the more 
 dangerous, we should not be slow to decide: — if we must 
 have either, give us the enchanting dreams of transcendent- 
 alism, rather than the intellectual alchymy of materialism. 
 But let us seek for truth, and truth only. 
 
 CLASSIFICATION OF THE MENTAL POWERS. 
 
 We are never to forget that our classifications of mental 
 phenomena, are but the application of names to cover groups 
 of similar ideas ; that these groups may be more or less ex- 
 tended, to suit our convenience ; and that, consequently, 
 our classifications are more or less arbitrary. This should 
 make us indulgent towards those from whom we are, in this 
 matter, constrained to differ. Still, it is of great importance 
 to accuracy of mental science, that the terms we employ sig- 
 nificantly represent the precise ideas intended. In defining 
 and arranging classes, the severest exactness should be ob- 
 served. These remarks are especially applicable to the 
 point before us. 
 
 BROWN'S CLASSIFICATION. 
 
 Stripped of its gorgeous drapery, the philosophy of Thomas 
 Brown presents the varying phases of the human mind in a 
 light exceedingly simple. Indeed, his fondness for simpli- 
 fication seems to have been a passion. He calls Reid, 
 
CONCEPTION. 169 
 
 Stewart, and others, to account, for too much increasing the 
 classes of mental phenomena. " The philosophy of Dr. 
 Reid," he says, " and in general, of the metaphysicians of 
 this part of the island, has had the opposite tendency, — to 
 enlarge, as I conceive, far beyond what was necessary, the 
 number of classes which they considered as too limited be- 
 fore ; — and in proportion, more regard has perhaps been 
 paid to the differences, or supposed differences, of phenome- 
 na, than to their resemblances." This philosopher carries 
 his simplifying process so far as to refer all the intellectual 
 states of the mind to u tivo generic susceptibilities, — those 
 of Simple Suggestion, and Relative Suggestion" And 
 much of his labor is eloquently employed, in tracing connec- 
 tions between the various mental states, usually arranged 
 under separate heads, to these two generic susceptibilities. 
 But the fact, that he is constrained to adopt much of the 
 usual nomenclature, and acknowledges its convenience, is 
 evidence that, after all, the writers whom he arraigns were 
 not so much out of the way. However this may be, subse- 
 quent writers have generally maintained nearly the same 
 classification that had obtained before Brown's Philosophy 
 appeared. But his theory of suggestion has found some 
 favor, especially as applied to the sources of primary 
 knowledge. 
 
 upham's original suggestion. 
 
 Adopting a part of Brown's theory of suggestion, Prof. 
 Upham says, " Some of the cases of thought and knowledge, 
 which the mind becomes possessed of in itself, without the 
 direct aid of the senses, are to be ascribed to suggestion. 
 This word, in its application here, is used merely to express 
 a simple but important fact, viz., that the mind, by its own 
 activity and vigor, gives rise to certain thoughts. Without 
 any mixture of hypothesis, or any qualifying intimation 
 whatever, it gives the fact, and that is all." He proceeds 
 to refer to this source a large list of ideas, — such as ideas 
 of existence, mind, personal identity, unity, succession, dura- 
 tion ; space, power, right and wrong, and many others, of 
 which, he says, " it might not be easy to make a complete 
 15 
 
170 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 enumeration," — but he thinks that moreover, " we may 
 probably ascribe the ideas of truth, freedom, design, or intel- 
 ligence, necessity, fitness, or congruity, reality, order, plu- 
 rality, totality, immensity, possibility, infinity, happiness, 
 reward, punishment, and perhaps many others, to this 
 
 OBJECTIONS TO THE ABOVE VIEW. 
 
 The writer above is professedly inquiring after "the origin 
 of knowledge" and says, that " the soul has fountains of 
 knowledge within ; " and one of these fountains he makes 
 " Original Suggestion." f Two questions arise here, — 
 first, Whether much that he ascribes to suggestion, is not 
 referable to other sources f It is believed the result will 
 show that it is. Letting this pass for the present, a more 
 important question is, Whether suggestion is tantamount to 
 knowledge f A suggestion is a mere idea, and, as Locke 
 says, " our knowledge is narroiver than our ideas" The 
 term suggestion signifies hint, intimation, insinuation ; the 
 power of suggestion, then, is the power to hint or intimate 
 something that is, or may be. Under certain impulses, the 
 mind may suggest absurdities and falsehoods, and may sup- 
 pose them to be truths. Although the term be restricted to 
 suggestions purely original, it is still open to this objec- 
 tion. $ 
 
 But it is not wise to contend about the meaning of a term. 
 Authors have the right to define their terms ; and if they 
 abide by their definitions, we have no right to complain. In 
 the present instance, the term, itself vague, is defined in the 
 
 * Upham's Philosophy, p. 130. f Upham's Philosophy, p. 120. 
 
 J Prof. Upham places original suggestion by the side of consciousness, 
 making them equally grounds of the highest kind of belief. " Conscious- 
 ness," it may be remarked here, " is to be regarded as a ground or law of 
 belief; and the belief attendant on the exercise of it, like that which ac- 
 companies the exercise of original suggestion, is of the highest kind. " 
 Philosophy, p. 138. According to this, we are to regard what is merely 
 suggested to us, by that power which he calls original suggestion, as equal- 
 ly certain with what we learn by consciousness, that is, by our actual ex- 
 perience. It is believed that the reasons for dissent from this position, 
 are made sufficiently obvious. 
 
CONCEPTION. 171 
 
 vaguest sense. The stern inquirer after the origin of knowl- 
 edge, not of mere hints or conjectures, is unsatisfied. When 
 told that " the mind has fountains of knowledge within,' ' 
 and that " by its own activity and vigor "— as the process 
 of furnishing knowledge by suggestion is explained — it gives 
 rise to the ideas of succession, truth, freedom, happiness, 
 punishment, &c, he can see no sufficient reasons, why it 
 may not as well be said, " by its own activity and vigor," to 
 give rise to all its knowledge. 
 
 I am now speaking of that knowledge which the mind has 
 without any second step. Spontaneous suggestion may give 
 us ideas, but they are not knowledge. A higher tribunal 
 must be awaited, before what is merely suggested becomes 
 actually known. A second step, another mental act, besides 
 suggestion, must be resorted to, before what is suggested 
 becomes knowledge ; I cannot, therefore, place suggestion 
 among the " fountains of knowledge within," or what I term 
 
 THE RATIONAL POWERS OF PRIMARY KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 I shall speak of those powers by which the mind obtains 
 its primary knowledge, independently of the senses, under 
 two heads — Intuition and Consciousness. Although 
 writers, entitled to high regard, have placed suggestion in 
 this number, for reasons above given, it is here excluded. 
 Although suggestions of all kinds have an important agency 
 here, as elsewhere, in furthering mental acquisitions, yet the 
 mind's suggestive power is not an infallible teacher of knowl- 
 edge. To allow it a place here, is really opening the door 
 to all the vagaries of German transcendentalism. How 
 much do we gain towards defining the mental powers and 
 limiting their range, towards restraining their vagaries and 
 holding them to exact truth, by fighting the battles against 
 the doctrine of innate ideas, if, after all, we allow a power 
 of original suggestion, which can give us ideas without num- 
 ber, and those ideas are to be taken for knowledge ? 
 
 The importance of this point may not at first be obvious to 
 all, and some may think less might better be said upon it. 
 But looseness here essentially aifects all subsequent inquiries 
 
172 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 in philosophy, and sends its disastrous effects onward to our 
 views in religion. Reliance on suggestions, or inspirations 
 within, to the neglect of a higher authority without, has 
 ever tended to flood the world with infidelity. 
 
 It is believed that to these two mental powers, Intuition 
 and Consciousness, may be referred all the real knowledge 
 now under consideration, to which the human mind can lay 
 claim. They will be considered in the next chapter. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 What is said at the opening of this chapter ? Which knowledge do we 
 have first, sensuous or rational ? What is said on this point ? Of the early 
 ideas obtained by sensation ? What progress is the child found to have 
 made before he can speak to us ? To what is the inquiry here restricted 1 ? 
 What is said on this point ? What of other sources of knowledge ? Rea- 
 sons assigned why this point should be clearly understood ? What is said 
 of diversity of views on this point ? What is said of the prevailing phi- 
 losophy before Locke ? Remarks % Was there any truth in these theories ? 
 How does this appear 1 What is said of some of Locke's disciples f Of 
 the French school'? Condillac ? Brown's reply 1 Of transcendentalism % 
 What are the two extremes ? Which would the reader prefer, if he must 
 have either % What is said of classification of the mental powers ? 
 What of Brown's classification 1 How far does he carry his simplifying 
 process ? What have subsequent writers generally maintained I What 
 is said of Upham's original suggestion 1 What is the first question that 
 arises here 1 What is a more important question 1 Remarks on this sub- 
 ject 1 What are the rational powers of primary knowledge ? What ob- 
 jections to considering the mind's suggestive power an infallible teacher 
 of knowledge ? What importance attaches to this point ? To what may 
 all our primary rational knowledge be referred ? 
 
CHAPTER XV, 
 
 INTUITION. 
 
 Intuition implies immediate mental perception. Some 
 things are known without any proving, their proof being in 
 themselves. They only require to be stated, to be known. 
 Intuition is the power of knowing these things. It may 
 therefore be defined, that power by which the mind infalli- 
 bly perceives, without any admonition of the senses, and 
 without any process of reasoning. It suggests nothing ; — 
 its office is higher, to know. It does this, and nothing 
 more. It goes not from home ; it never commutes its 
 office ; but remains eternally in the same position — the 
 mental eye ever open, piercing, sure. We are therefore 
 justified in considering it, the power of immediately know- 
 ing whatever falls within its sphere. 
 
 REASONS FOR USING THE TERM INTUITION. 
 
 As the term intuition has been generally used in relation 
 to matters of proof, and especially in connection with mathe- 
 matical demonstrations, reasons may be demanded for using 
 it here.* The term being generic, it respects knowledge in 
 general. Logicians and mathematicians have made a 
 
 * Intuition is nearly synonymous with reason, as the latter term is 
 used in the metaphysical school. The distinction made by German phi- 
 losophers between reason and understanding, is in many respects the same 
 as that made by the Scotch and English, between intuition and the reason~ 
 ing or discursive faculties. The former allow, however, a much wider 
 field to reason, than the latter do to intuition. 
 
 15* 
 
174 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 specific use of it. Still, the term may properly be used in 
 its original and generic sense. It expresses what needs to 
 be here expressed, and what no other term expresses so 
 exactly. Let us see : — suppose we take suggestion, — the 
 term sometimes used to denote mental phenomena, some of 
 which we call intuitions. The mind suggests something : — 
 that something is true, or false, or doubtful. Suppose it 
 false. 
 
 It may be said, that to know a falsehood, is real knowl- 
 edge, as well as to know a truth. So be it. But then the 
 mind does not yet know that it is a falsehood. The man is 
 conscious of having a suggestion or conjecture in his mind 
 respecting the thing in question, but no knoivledge.* Nor, 
 until some other power than that of mere suggestion is 
 brought to bear, can he be said to have any knowledge 
 respecting it. That other power needed, is intuition. The 
 thing suggested is intuitively perceived to be either true or 
 false. If perceived to be true, the mind has thus obtained 
 the knowledge of a truth; if seen to be false, the knowledge 
 of a falsehood. 
 
 If it be said, that a mere conjecture, doubt, query, rising 
 in the mind as such ; or a mere suggestion, indicating some- 
 thing not yet certainly known, as either true or false, real 
 or unreal, — is all that is meant by the knowledge in ques- 
 tion, — it is only necessary for me to say, that this is not 
 what I understand, and intend to designate, by primary 
 knowledge. The term here is always meant to indicate an 
 entity known — known as a truth, a falsehood, an absurdity, 
 a reality, a conjecture, or whatever it is. And for this 
 knowledge, in the present case,f we fall back on intuition. 
 _ As explicitness is very important here, the following par- 
 ticulars should be noticed. 
 
 1. Although the power of intuition, like all others, is 
 
 * If we adopt the mode of designating mental phenomena favored by 
 Brown, we should say, the man is conscious of having his mind in a state 
 oj conjecture, not in a state of knowledge, respecting the thing in question. 
 He considers ideas mere states of mind, and not any thing distinct from 
 the mind itself. J b 
 
 tl say, in the present case, because, in numerous other cases, suggest- 
 ion puts the mind on the track to knowledge obtained by a irocess of 
 reasoning. It is a handmaid to knowledge of all kinds 
 
INTUITION. 175 
 
 gradually developed, yet there are no degrees of assurance 
 in its decision. The intuitions of the child, so far as they 
 go, are precisely the same as those of the adult. Years 
 of study and thought cannot change or modify them. The 
 child and the adult, the untaught and the philosopher, are 
 herein alike ; so far as their intuitions reach, their knowl- 
 edge is equally certain. 
 
 2. All intuitive, as well as all sensuous knowledge, is 
 acquired. The mind has no more knowledge of intuitive 
 truths than it has of any others, until intuition has been 
 exercised upon them. There is a susceptibility to them, 
 requiring only that they be suggested, or in some way 
 brought before the mind, to be at once recognized as truths. 
 This is what D'Alembert meant by the remark, that " all 
 intuitive knowledge is but the mind's recognition of what it 
 previously knew." To the same intent, we sometimes 
 hear a person say, when a self-evident truth is suggested to 
 him, " I knew that before, but never before thought of it." 
 In strict truth, he did not know it before ; for a man cannot 
 be said to know what was never in his thoughts ; but he 
 only needed to think of it to know it. To know a thing by 
 only thinking of it, is intuition. 
 
 3. Intuitive truths admit of no proof. They are above 
 all proof; their witness being in themselves. Any thing 
 that can be proved, is not a subject of pure intuition. All at- 
 tempts to prove intuitive truths are but a begging of the ques- 
 tion, or a running round in a circle. Some have supposed, for 
 example, the existence of God an intuitive truth ; but if it 
 is demonstrable by a process of reasoning, it ceases to be 
 strictly intuitive. Although the chain of argument have 
 but two or three links, something more than intuition is de- 
 manded. 
 
 4. The teachings of intuition are irresistible. They 
 take the mind by force. Every man must believe what it 
 teaches him. Any thing that a man can willingly avoid 
 knowing, is not a subject of intuition ; for willingly to avoid 
 knowing a thing, implies that he has thought of it ; and 
 whatever intuitive truth he has thought of, he already 
 knows. Suppose, for instance, a man undertake to be igno- 
 rant of the truth, that there is a moral distinction between 
 
176 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 right and wrong. His undertaking to be ignorant of it, 
 implies that it is in his thoughts ; and its being in his 
 thoughts, makes him already know it. He has only to think 
 of it, and he irresistibly knows it. 
 
 5. Subjects of intuition being facts, which cannot be 
 proved, philosophy has only to define them, leaving their 
 proof with every individual. What every man knows by 
 only thinking of it, needs only to be stated. Volumes have 
 been written, essaying to prove intuitive truths ; which have 
 served no other purpose than to show the folly of attempting 
 to do what the Creator has already done for us. 
 
 But great care must be exercised on this point, not to 
 admit as intuitive any thing not strictly so. Intuitive 
 knowledge is quite limited, but of the highest importance. 
 Its great value is in the fact, that it is one of the essential 
 elements in all mental acquisitions. 
 
 1. MATHEMATICAL AXIOMS. 
 
 All mathematical axioms, strictly so called, are subjects 
 of intuitive knowledge. They cannot be proved, for they 
 are proved already, as soon as they are stated. To know 
 them, is to prove them. So soon, for example, as a child is 
 mature enough to understand you, if you say to him, The 
 whole of any thing is more than any one of its parts, — he 
 intuitively perceives it to be so. Or if you say, The half of 
 any thing is equal to the whole of it, — he intuitively perceives 
 it not to be so. The falseness of the one statement and 
 the truth of the other, require no proof. Could you prove 
 them a thousand times, you could not make them more cer- 
 tain to his mind. But you cannot prove them. In attempt- 
 ing to do so, you must assume as proved what remains to be 
 proved ; you must indeed beg at every step. It is only by 
 availing ourselves of the knowledge furnished by intuition, 
 that we can demonstrate the simplest proposition ; for every 
 result is dependent on a chain of demonstration, more or 
 less extended, every link of which is an intuition. It is 
 intuition that holds the several parts of the demonstration 
 together, by perceiving their fitness and relations. The 
 
INTUITION. 177 
 
 number of mathematical axioms may be more or less ex- 
 tended, but a list of them does not belong to this place. 
 The reader is referred to mathematical works. 
 
 II. MORAL AXIOMS. 
 
 There are self-evident truths in moral science, as truly as 
 in mathematical. Moral axioms may not be clearly under- 
 stood at so early a period as mathematical, but when they 
 are understood, the mind embraces them with the same 
 assurance. Coleridge makes this distinction between mathe- 
 matical and moral axioms, that the former are what every 
 mind must believe, the latter what every good mind will 
 believe. The apparent reason for the distinction is in the 
 fact, that through moral obliquity men are often more ready 
 to do violence to their moral than to their mathematical 
 intuitions. Men may make themselves fools, if they will, 
 on every subject. All our powers of rational, as well as of 
 sensuous knowledge, may be outraged and destroyed. 
 When philosophy speaks of the mental powers, she has 
 respect to their legitimate use. 
 
 ILLUSTRATION. 
 
 When a mathematical axiom is first clearly apprehended 
 by a person, he knows it to be true. He may afterwards 
 speculate upon it, and through a desire to be original or 
 obstinate, finally prevail upon himself to think otherwise. 
 There is, however, still a conviction at the bottom of his 
 mind, that he is not true to himself; in fact, he really knows 
 better. But as the motives to such folly, in relation to 
 mathematical truths, are comparatively few, such instances 
 of folly are proportionably rare, — although not wholly 
 wanting. So, when a person first clearly apprehends a 
 moral axiom, he instantly knows it to be true. But through 
 moral obliquity, his feelings, his wishes, may be against it. 
 
178 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 He may thus be induced to speculate, cavil, resist, and 
 finally prevail with himself to think otherwise. But he is 
 not without conviction of being false to himself. It is not 
 for us to decide how far a man may carry this desperate 
 warfare against his own intuitions, but we can hardly im- 
 agine a case, where it may not be said, After all he really 
 knows better. If he have come to the strange pass, that he 
 really does not perceive any moral distinctions in conduct, 
 that a lie is to him morally the same as a truth, he certainly 
 did know better once. However much of a fool he may 
 have made himself, intuition has done its duty. 
 
 SOME MORAL AXIOMS SPECIFIED. 
 
 A full account of this class of axioms belongs to moral 
 philosophy, but for the sake of being understood, let us 
 notice a few of them. They may be expressed in such pro- 
 positions as these : — Let the reader ponder a moment on 
 each, and see if something within does not testify to its 
 truth. There is a moral distinction between right and 
 wrong. — We ought to love what is good, and hate what is 
 evil. — It is just, that they who do good and they who do evil, 
 be rewarded according to their respective doings. — If God is 
 infinitely good, we ought to love him supremely. — We should 
 endeavor to promote the welfare and not the ruin of our 
 fellow beings. — There is a moral difference between truth 
 and falsehood. — We ought to be grateful for favors. We 
 might enlarge the list, but these examples will suffice. 
 
 All effectual moral reasoners assume such truths. If 
 men undertake to prove them, they only weaken what is at 
 first strong. In taking into their own hands the work which 
 the Creator has already done, they show, by their bungling, 
 how much better his work is than theirs. The most con- 
 vincing and powerful reasoners in morals are they, who 
 assume all such facts as admitted, throw them directly upon 
 the understanding and conscience of those addressed, and 
 go straight forth to frame and apply their argument. This 
 
INTUITION. 179 
 
 shows that such facts are admitted, and that no proof of 
 them is needed ; in other words, that thej are subjects of 
 intuition* 
 
 METAPHYSICAL AXIOMS. 
 
 This is a convenient term to apply to a class of specula- 
 tive axioms, which are neither strictly mathematical nor 
 moral. They are such as these : It is impossible for the 
 same thing to be and not to be, at the same time. — What- 
 ever is not eternal, must have had a beginning. — Every 
 effect must have a cause. — The same thing cannot be both 
 cause and effect in the same relation, at the same time. — 
 There cannot be a cause without an effect. — An effect can 
 never precede its cause. — A body cannot go from one point 
 to another, without passing through the intermediate space. — 
 The work of creation supposes Omnipotent power. — Omnipo- 
 tence itself cannot do impossibilities — such as, to make a 
 thing to be and not to be, at the same time ; to make three 
 and two equal to ten, &c. 
 
 REMARKS ON INTUITIVE PROPOSITIONS. 
 
 Such propositions may seem at first puerile and useless. 
 But no sooner does one undertake to reason, than he finds 
 the necessity of having such first truths, universally known 
 and conceded, on which he can fall back and rest firmly. 
 He cannot prove them, for he has nothing to prove them 
 with. He takes them as already proved by intuition, for 
 materials with which to prove those things which require 
 proof by argument. They are not ordinarily drawn out into 
 verbal propositions : all minds entertain such truths almost 
 unconsciously, so that they can be reasoned upon without 
 
 * The disciples of the metaphysical school have often had the advan- 
 tage of those of the sensuous school, in this respect. The cautious phi- 
 losophy of the latter, inclining them to prove every thing, has not unfre- 
 quently led them to attempt the proof of self-evident truths, and thus 
 to induce a spirit of scepticism. 
 
180 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 being stated. It is when something is said in opposition to 
 them, rather than in reliance upon them, that the mind is 
 roused to think of them. An intuitive truth, like the atmos- 
 phere in which the body lives, is seldom noticed except 
 when disturbed. 
 
 Although some of the propositions involving intuitive 
 truths are little else than truisms, or statements of the same 
 thing in different words, they yet express a reality, and one 
 for which no other mode of expression can be framed. The 
 simplest things are often the most difficult to define. It is 
 also due to the reader to say, that some of the generally 
 received axioms have been debated. For instance, the pro- 
 position, That every effect must have a cause, has been by 
 some said to be nothing more than the mere statement of 
 the fact, that so far as human observation extends, certain 
 things have been uniformly preceded by certain other 
 things ; * while again it is claimed by some, that every 
 human mind spontaneously prompts the belief, that neither 
 ourselves nor anything around us could have come into 
 existence without a cause. In reply to all this, it is not 
 material to decide precisely how much observation and 
 intuition severally do, in furnishing us with the elements of 
 knowledge, so long as we are all equally agreed as to the 
 knowledge itself. Although philosophers are not agreed as 
 to the relation of cause and effect, and one thinks that his 
 knowledge of it came by intuition, and another that his 
 came by observation, yet if they are equally sure that they 
 have this knowledge, and reason together soundly upon it, 
 each may safely be left to his own speculations. 
 
 Having stated some of the intuitive propositions, of the 
 several classes, let us notice some intuitive facts, expressed 
 by a single term. Among these may be mentioned, 
 
 1. Existence. That there is something which we call 
 being or existence, and that himself exists, every man knows 
 by intuition. Existence cannot be proved ; for, in order to 
 prove, there must be a mind, and materials for the mind to 
 work with. Unless these be allowed to exist, there can of 
 course be no proving. The man who maintains that there 
 
 * Brown's Philosophy. 
 
INTUITION. 181 
 
 is no existence, annihilates the universe and himself with it. 
 As he no longer exists, he cannot of course maintain any 
 thing. On the other hand, the man who undertakes to 
 prove that there is such a thing as existence, must beg his 
 position and assume his existence, before he can prove it. 
 Hence the attempt of Des Cartes and others, to prove exist- 
 ence, could add nothing to the convictions which all mankind 
 had by their own intuition. Had men consented to abandon 
 their ground of belief furnished by intuition, and to depend 
 upon that furnished by argument, most would have proba- 
 bly fallen, with Hume, into universal scepticism. 
 
 Some have supposed that existence is made known to us 
 through the senses. The senses make known to us certain 
 effects of existence, but for the knowledge of existence itself, 
 we are indebted to intuition. These effects are intuitively 
 referred to their cause. Others have said that our existence 
 is made known to us by consciousness.* To this it is by 
 some replied, that oar thoughts, feelings, volitions — the 
 effects of our existence — we know by consciousness, but of 
 our existence itself we are not strictly conscious. I am 
 quite willing to leave this point with the reader to settle for 
 himself, — whether it is by intuition or consciousness, or 
 both, that he knows his own existence. Others refer the 
 knowledge of our existence to suggestion. Prof. Upham 
 does this, but in his explanation really makes it a matter 
 of intuitive reference of effect to cause. " If we think, 
 then there is something which has this capability of thought ; 
 if we feel, then there is not only the mere act of feeling, 
 but something also which puts forth the act." f If any say, 
 our existence is thus suggested to us, it is only necessary to 
 add, intuition does more, it makes us know it. 
 
 2. Space. The question here is not in respect to the na- 
 ture of space, whether it is material or immaterial, whether it 
 is real substance or the absence of all substance, whether it is 
 independent of God or dependent upon him ; the question 
 is, how do we come by the knowledge of that, whatever 
 it be, which ive call space? All men perceive at once, that 
 space is so essentially different from body, that our knowl- 
 
 * See Brown on Metaphysical and Ethical Science 
 t Mental Philosophy, p. 124. 
 
 16 
 
182 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 edge of it would not naturally be referred to a sensuous 
 origin. Space is absolute and necessary, body may or may 
 not exist ; space is illimitable, all body has limits ; the idea 
 of space is strictly rational, that of body is accompanied 
 •with a sensible representation. 
 
 Respecting the origin of our idea of space, Cousin has the 
 following just remarks. " Here we have carefully distin- 
 guished two points of views, which are intimately blended 
 together, but which analysis should separate, namely, the 
 logical order of ideas, and their chronological order. In the 
 logical view, body pre-supposes space ; for what is body ? 
 The juxta-position, the co-existence of resisting points, that 
 is, of solids. But how could this juxta-position, this co- 
 existence, happen, but in a continuity of space ? But 
 while, in the order of reason and of nature, body pre- 
 supposes space, it is true, on the other hand, that, in the 
 chronological order, there is a contemporaneousness of the 
 idea of body and that of space ; we cannot have the idea of 
 body without that of space, nor of space without that of 
 body. And if, in this contemporaneous process, one of 
 these ideas may be distinguished as the antecedent, in the 
 order of time, of the other, it is not the idea of space which 
 is anterior to that of body ; it is the idea of body which is 
 anterior to that of space. It is not from the idea of space 
 that we start ; and if the sensibility, if the touch, did not 
 take the initiative, and give us, immediately, the idea of 
 resistance, of solid, of body, we should never have the idea 
 of space. Without doubt the idea of body could never be 
 found and completed in the mind, if we had not already 
 there the idea of space ; but still, the former idea springs 
 up first in time ; it precedes in some degree the idea of 
 space, which immediately follows it." * The amount of it 
 all is, that while we come at the knowledge of body by the 
 senses, we intuitively perceived that body cannot exist without 
 space to exist in. 
 
 3. Identity. Identity implies sameness of being. A man 
 of fifty is the same being to-day that he was forty years 
 ago. No man ever doubts this. The belief of identity is 
 
 * See Cousin's Psychology, by Dr. Henry, p. 95. 
 
INTUITION. 183 
 
 universal. It is more than belief; it is knowledge. Whence 
 the origin of this knowledge ? In the first place, it cannot 
 evidently be given us directly by the senses. These furnish 
 evidence of only present physical facts. Identity respects 
 the past as well as present. Here then is work for mem- 
 ory. But memory alone cannot impart the knowledge of 
 identity ; it only recalls past experiences and events. It is 
 not its office to decide, whether it is the same being who 
 experiences certain feelings to-day, who experienced certain 
 feelings ten years ago. Nor, in the second place, can con- 
 sciousness alone give us the knowledge in question. Con- 
 sciousness is concerned only with present experiences. And 
 yet, without memory and consciousness, there can be no 
 knowledge of identity. Here Locke fails to discover his 
 wonted clearness. " Since consciousness," he says, " always 
 accompanies thinking, and it is that which makes every one 
 to be what he calls self, and thereby distinguishes himself 
 from all other thinking things ; in this alone consists per- 
 sonal identity, i. e., the sameness of a rational being ; and, 
 as far as this consciousness can be extended backwards to 
 any past action or thought, so far reaches the identity of that 
 person ; it is the same self, now, it was then ; and it is by 
 the same self with this present one that now reflects on it, 
 that that action was done." * Here is a confounding 
 of consciousness with identity. If consciousness makes 
 identity, then a man loses his identity, — is no longer the same 
 man, — the moment he ceases to be conscious. Locke could 
 not have meant to say this. If he meant to say, that it is 
 by consciousness and memory that we get our idea of iden- 
 tity, he still fails to reach the exact point. I may have 
 been conscious of certain emotions ten years ago, and may 
 to-day remember that I was then conscious of them ; but 
 then the question returns, how do I know that the self — 
 the I — is the same identical being, that he was ten years 
 ago ? Am I conscious of it ? But I can be conscious of 
 only present experience. Do I remember it ? But I re- 
 member only what is past. Here, all must see that some- 
 thing more is wanting to give the knowledge in question. 
 
 * Essay, Vol. II., Chap. 27, p. 229. New York edition, 1818. 
 
184 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 I do not first remember certain experiences in past years, 
 and hence infer mj identity. So changed are my feelings 
 and so treacherous is my memory, that I might well distrust 
 this evidence. The evidence of identity rests on no such 
 precarious basis. The case rather stands thus : Knowing 
 myself to be the same being to-day that I have been from 
 the first, whatever may have been the changes in my expe- 
 rience, and however treacherous my memory, of this I am 
 certain, that the joys and sufferings which I experienced 
 twenty or forty years ago, and those which I experience 
 now, belong to one and the same being. Thus, while the 
 knowledge of our identity springs into the mind along with 
 consciousness and memory, it comes not in the relation of a 
 dependent effect, but of an absolute and irresistible intuition. 
 There is no reasoning, inferring, judging, in the premises ; 
 it is from the first, kyiowledge. Ask the uneducated child, 
 how he knows that he is the same being to-day that he was 
 last year, and he is wont to reply, Because I am ;— which, 
 with him, means much the same as to say, that he knows it 
 by intuition. 
 
 With these specimens of intuitive facts, and illustrations 
 of the manner in which they are shown to be such, the 
 reader may easily identify all others. Among these, some 
 would place infinity, eternity, unity, design, substance, 
 cause, &c. Such facts are not subjects of sense, neither 
 can they be demonstrated by any mere reasoning process. 
 But at certain periods of mental development they are intui- 
 tively perceived, and perceived at once as absolute facts, 
 about which no question can be raised. The importance of 
 not admitting as intuitive knowledge what is not strictly 
 so, and of drawing the line distinctly between what are, and 
 what are not, proper subjects of logical proof, cannot be 
 too deeply impressed upon the mind. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XV. 
 
 What is intuition ? Remarks. What is said in the note ? Why do we 
 use the term intuition in this connection 1 What objections to suggestion? 
 Remarks ? Suppose that a mere conjecture, doubt, query, be considered 
 
INTUITION. 185 
 
 as knowledge, does the reader so consider if? What is here always 
 meant by the term knowledge ? What is said of intuition as to degrees 
 of assurance? Is intuitive knowledge acquired? Remarks'? Do in- 
 tuitive truths admit of proof? What is said here 1 ? What is the 
 nature of the teachings of intuition ? Remarks ? What has philosophy to 
 do with subjects of intuition ? Remarks ? What is said of mathematical 
 axioms 1 Illustration ? What are moral axioms ? What is said of them 1 ? 
 What distinction does Coleridge make ? On how many subjects may men 
 make themselves fools ? Illustrations of this 1 State some of the moral 
 axioms. Is the reader convinced of their being strictly intuitive truths ? 
 What is the custom of all effectual moral reasoners 1 What is the effect 
 of mere attempts to prove them ? What are metaphysical axioms ? State 
 some. What remarks are made respecting intuitive propositions ? What 
 is the apology for propositions involving intuitive truths, which are Httle 
 else than truisms ? Have any of the received axioms been debated ? 
 Give an instance. What is the reply 1 What is the first mentioned intui- 
 tive fact ? Can existence be proved ? Why not ? What have some sup- 
 posed ? What have others said ? Others still ? What is said of space ? 
 What says Cousin of it ? The amount of it all 1 What is identity ? Re- 
 marks ? Is the knowledge of it by the senses ? Why not? By memory 
 alone ? Why not ? By consciousness alone 1 Views of Locke 1 Objections 
 and remarks ? What must all here see * How stands the case then ? 
 Concluding remarks ? 
 
 IV 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS. 
 
 The second source of our primary rational knowledge is 
 consciousness. This is the power of knowing whatever is 
 passing in one's own mind. We can be strictly conscious 
 of nothing else, unless it be our existence itself. The term 
 implies knowing inwardly ; and its etymology is expressive 
 of the exact idea attached to it in mental philosophy. We 
 cannot therefore be at the present time conscious of any thing 
 past, of any thing future ; nor of any thing pertaining to the 
 material world ; of any thing passing in the mind of another ; 
 of any thing above, beneath, around us. Most philosophers 
 suppose that we are not strictly conscious of our own exist- 
 ence ; that this is a subject of intuition : — that we can only 
 be conscious of what is taking place within us. Our per- 
 sonal mental phenomena, not our personal being, are 
 supposed to be the precise and only subjects of our con- 
 sciousness. * 
 
 CONSCIOUSNESS REFERS TO ENTITIES. 
 
 All the proper subjects of consciousness are actual entities 
 or realities, and when we become conscious of them, they 
 
 * On this point the most accurate thinkers differ. Francis Bowen, 
 authof of the excellent work on Metaphysical and Ethical Science, sup- 
 poses that we know our existence by consciousness. " This apperception, 
 as Leibnitz calls it, or direct consciousness of self, seems to me an invaria- 
 ble concomitant of mental action." — Self is an indivisible unit, — a 
 monad, in technical phrase, endowed with intelligence and activity ; and 
 we are directly conscious of it in itself, and in its passing into thought and 
 act, without being compelled to infer its existence from these manifesta- 
 tions," p. 55. Whether our existence be considered a subject of conscious- 
 ness, or intuition, or both, is not a very material point. 
 
CONSCIOUSNESS. 187 
 
 become subjects of absolute knowledge. For instance, a 
 state of mental anxiety is an entity — a fact — and a man's 
 being conscious of it, makes him know it as a fact. It does 
 not remain to be proved : — his consciousness of it, is a proof 
 of it, of the highest possible kind. 
 
 SUBJECTS OF CONSCIOUSNESS SPECIFIED. 
 
 Let us here indicate some of the classes of mental pheno- 
 mena, which we know by consciousness. 
 
 1. All our intellectual operations, — such as think- 
 ing, reasoning, comparing, judging, multiplying, dividing, 
 reckoning, planning. It is not contended that men may 
 not, through the power of habit, sometimes do these things 
 without being conscious of them. It is simply maintained, 
 that whatever men directly know of them, they learn only 
 by consciousness. 
 
 2. Our mental emotions. Among these are included 
 emotions awakened by whatever is grand, awful, terrible, 
 beautiful, ludicrous, disgusting, charming. We know our- 
 selves to be subjects of such emotions, only as we are con- 
 scious of experiencing them. 
 
 3. Our social and moral affections. Our filial, 
 fraternal, conjugal, paternal affections ; our affections to- 
 wards our fellow-beings in general, and towards Grod, are 
 all made evident to us by personal consciousness. 
 
 4. Our moral emotions. Emotions of gratitude to- 
 wards man and towards God, in view of favors ; emotions of 
 fear, reverence, humility ; emotions of anger, jealousy, envy ; 
 
 emotions of hatred and revenge. 
 
 5. Our volitions and purposes. We know that we 
 will, choose, purpose, plan ; that we designedly avoid this 
 and incline to that ; that we have objects in view, and strive 
 to obtain them ; because we are conscious of so doing. 
 
 6. Our pains and pleasures. Whatever we experi- 
 ence of suffering, anguish, joy, delight ; — whether we are 
 in a state of happiness, or a state of misery, or in a state of 
 both united, — we know, only as our consciousness in- 
 forms us. 
 
188 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 7. Our various degrees op belief. We are so con- 
 stituted that, prejudice apart, we yield assent in greater or 
 less degrees, according to evidence. Our minds may pass 
 from the state expressed by positive disbelief, to a state of 
 suspense; thence to presumption, belief, certainty. We 
 may not, for want of attention to our mental exercises, 
 be conscious of thus moving over from a state of disbelief to 
 a state of assurance, in regard to a point at issue; but we 
 can hardly fail to be conscious of the new state of mind, after 
 we have reached it. 
 
 The judge on the bench is at first without any belief what- 
 ever, that the man at the bar is guilty. In the course of 
 the trial, evidence against him is elicited, the judge begins 
 to think his guilt probable, then almost certain, and finally 
 quite certain. In the course of the trial, he was so much 
 occupied with evidence, that he did not think of the change 
 going on in his own mind ; but when this mental revolution 
 becomes a subject of attention, he cannot fail to be con- 
 scious of it. 
 
 8. Our religious experience. Repentance, remorse, 
 peace, hope, faith ; the sweet sense of forgiveness, and the 
 joys of communion with God; feelings of discouragement 
 and gloom, followed with feelings of animation and delight, 
 or the steady abiding of the soul in the assurance of divine 
 favor and eternal life, — are known only as they are subjects 
 of personal consciousness. 
 
 REMARKS on consciousness. 
 
 1. From what has been said, it must appear that our 
 consciousness is as important as our being. Annihilate it, 
 and our being might as well cease. It is directly the ground 
 of the knowledge which most intimately concerns us ; and 
 indirectly of all we know. All that we are, all we possess, 
 all we experience, derives its value from this attribute. 
 
 2. The question is debated, whether consciousness is ever 
 actually suspended. It is maintained, on the one hand, that 
 in cases of fainting, trance, profound sleep, or intoxication, 
 and under the influence of powerful medicines, of ether and 
 
CONSCIOUSNESS. 189 
 
 chloroform, there is no consciousness whatever of pleasure or 
 pain, and that hours of existence passed in this state are to 
 the subject as though he were not. On the other hand, it 
 is claimed, that there is consciousness at the moment, but 
 that memory does not serve. 
 
 Without entering upon a discussion which would be irrele- 
 vant here, it will suffice to say, that the amount of the truth 
 seems to be this, — In some cases, memory is most affect- 
 ed, in others, consciousness, and, in some extreme cases, 
 both memory and consciousness are utterly at fault together. 
 For wise purposes, men are sometimes for a season cut off, 
 as it were, from themselves ; — but their return to conscious- 
 ness is not as the beginning of a new life ; it is the continu- 
 ance of the old one. They begin their conscious life again, 
 at the point where they left off. This proves that their con- 
 sciousness was not destroyed, but only suspended. There is 
 the same being, the same identity, the same consciousness, 
 still going on. 
 
 3. Consciousness is immortal. It may be for a time 
 suspended, as we have seen, but it can never be finally des- 
 troyed. It is a vital element of the soul. The character of 
 the soul may change : vice may give place to virtue, sin 
 to holiness, but consciousness remains ever the same. Phy- 
 sical disease or mental derangement may impair its action, 
 but the moment the pressure is off — the moment the mind 
 is released from the influence of all disordered action — con- 
 sciousness resumes its activity, and with all its felt real- 
 ities moves on from the point that was left. In a philoso- 
 phical view, the event of death will have far less to do with 
 interrupting the course of our conscious being, than many 
 events which we encounter on our way to the grave. All 
 this is of course predicated on the fact before proved, — the 
 immortality of the soul itself. 
 
 4. The relation of consciousness to religion. If the 
 above views are correct, men may know, and ought to know, 
 their prevailing thoughts, feelings, views, purposes, aims, in 
 relation to the momentous truths set forth in the Christian 
 religion. Whether they believe them or not, love them or not, 
 delight in them or not ; whether they repent of their sins, and 
 seek the divine favor ; whether they love to pray, and to per- 
 
190 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 form all the duties enjoined by Christ ; whether they most 
 love and pursue this world, or heaven, — are questions to be 
 settled only by a faithful attention to the teachings of their 
 own consciousness. Searching our own hearts, to see what 
 manner of men we are, is nothing more nor less than carefully 
 observing what our consciousness tells us, as compared with 
 God's rule of faith and duty. If we are conscious of a pre- 
 vailing aversion to prayer, for instance, when God especially 
 enjoins it, we cannot innocently fail to know that our hearts 
 are not right. 
 
 Not only are we thus indebted to consciousness for the 
 knowledge of our characters, but for the happiness or the 
 misery to be derived from them. Could the wicked man an- 
 nihilate his consciousness, he would have nothing to fear ; on 
 the other hand, were the good man to be sure of losing his 
 consciousness, he would have nothing to hope. The fact 
 that we are to be forever conscious of our characters ; con- 
 scious of all the thoughts, the emotions, passions, that will 
 eternally play in our souls, is among the most glorious and 
 awful of all known realities. It invests our rational and im- 
 mortal being with a solemnity and importance, which lan- 
 guage can but feebly express. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 What is consciousness ? What does the term imply 1 Remarks. What 
 are the proper subjects of consciousness 1 Instance 1 What is the first 
 mentioned class of subjects % Examples ? Second class ? Examples 1 
 Third class 1 Examples 1 Fourth class ? Examples 1 Fifth class ? 
 Sixth ? Seventh 1 Remarks ? Eighth ? Erom what has been said, what 
 must appear ? What question is debated ? State the argument on each 
 side. What docs the truth seem to be 1 How enduring is consciousness ? 
 Remarks 1 What is said respecting the relation of consciousness to reli- 
 gion 1 What is implied in searching our hearts ? What would be the 
 consequences to good and to bad men, were their consciences to be anni- 
 hilated ? What is said of the fact that we are to be forever conscious \ 
 
PART II. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 SECONDARY KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 ATTENTION. 
 
 We have hitherto confined our observations to that kind 
 of human knowledge, which comes to the mind directly 
 through the senses, in connection with intuition and con- 
 sciousness. It is called primary, because we obtain it first, 
 and without any reasoning process. It constitutes our men- 
 tal capital, or primary stock of ideas. We have other pow- 
 ers of intellect, which take up these primary ideas, combine, 
 separate, re-combine, arrange them, and reason upon them ; 
 and thus, in various ways, augment our mental riches. These 
 powers are of a higher order than the preceding, are held 
 by men in more unequal degrees, and are susceptible of 
 much more cultivation. Some of them we hold in common 
 with brutes ; others distinguish the human mind entirely 
 from all brute mind. 
 
 We shall begin with those which w T e have in common 
 with brutes. Brutes have the various senses, in common 
 with man ; they have also consciousness, and something 
 answering their purpose, as well as intuition and forethought 
 do ours, which we call instinct. They have also more than 
 
192 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 these ; they have, to some extent, attention, association^ 
 memory. 
 
 PRIMARY AND SECONDARY IDEAS. 
 
 Before proceeding, we must notice another distinction 
 between primary and secondary ideas. Primary ideas are 
 all cognitions ; secondary ideas are not all cognitions. So 
 far as there is demonstration, or proof, in respect to the 
 latter, they become as truly cognitions as the former ; oth- 
 erwise, they s^and in the doubtful position of mere ideas — 
 suggestions, suppositions, conjectures, speculations, fictions, 
 fancies. But whether they respect things real, unreal, or 
 half real, passing for what they are, they are valuable as 
 intellectual furniture ; they serve to enrich and embellish 
 the mind, to augment its power and happiness. 
 
 ATTENTION DEFINED. 
 
 Attention implies the power of fixing the mind steadily 
 upon a given subject. It is partly involuntary, partly volun- 
 tary. Sometimes our minds, drawn by feeling, or compelled 
 by circumstances, are riveted so firmly to a subject of 
 thought, that we cannot detach them, until exhausted nature 
 or some other cause interpose. But in far the most numer- 
 ous instances, our attention is more directly under our con- 
 trol. The more we discipline it, the more obedient it be- 
 comes to our volition. 
 
 ATTENTION IN BRUTES. 
 
 It is evident that brutes have, to some extent, the power of 
 attention, although they have not reason to guide it. Taught 
 by instinct, they attend to the calls of their young, and 
 sometimes fix their attention for a considerable time upon 
 the object in view. Under the admonition of the lash, the 
 horse, the mule, the monkey is trained to attend to his mas- 
 ter's will, and becomes very careful not to resist it. Dogs 
 have sometimes been so attentive to objects of trust as 
 
ATTENTION. 193 
 
 to neglect the calls of hunger. It is recorded, as an 
 instance of fidelity in this fine animal, that a man on a jour- 
 ney, having occasion to leave his effects in charge of his 
 dog, expecting to be absent only a few hours, but being 
 detained some days, found on his return his faithful ser- 
 vant dead of starvation. There was food accessible to the 
 animal, but he was so absorbed in attention to the object 
 of his charge, that he neglected to take it. He had the 
 power of attention, but wanted reason, 
 
 NATURE OF THE MENTAL ACT IN ATTENTION. 
 
 There seems to have been some question among philoso 
 phers, respecting the precise nature of the mental effort in 
 attention ; whether it implies a special energetic or impulsive 
 action of the will, or whether the effort is purely intellectual. 
 It seems evident from our consciousness, that both the intel- 
 lect and the will are put in requisition. But in the best 
 acts of attention, there is perhaps less forced mental energy 
 than may be supposed. To be most effectual, attention 
 must be natural, easy, composed. A painful effort often 
 divides attention. Of this we are all conscious. Sometimes 
 a pupil nerves up his attention almost to an agony, with a 
 view to committing a lesson, and gives it up in despair. At 
 another time, in a more composed state, he learns the lesson 
 with ease. Our mental, as well as our bodily powers, should 
 be exerted in a natural way. 
 
 HOW TO SECURE FIXEDNESS OF ATTENTION. 
 
 There are three rules for learning to fix the attention, 
 which every pupil should early reduce to practice. 
 
 1. He must determine to do it. In all cases where fixed 
 attention is demanded, he must hold himself resolved to 
 render it. Without this, he can secure no mental discipline, 
 His intellect will ever be the puny and helpless child of 
 accident. If any thing is to be learned, whether from books, 
 or a lecture, or conversation, or a walk in the fields, or a 
 visit to a gallery of arts, or from our own reminiscences, he 
 17 
 
194 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 must resolve on giving his fixed attention. If any thing 
 diverts it, with jealous vigilance he must instantly call it 
 back to duty. 
 
 But as attention cannot be always on special duty, with- 
 out exhaustion, appropriate seasons of relaxation should be 
 allowed. To this end, seasons of recess in schools are well 
 adapted. The pupil who would succeed, must make it a 
 point of settled determination, during every moment not 
 appropriated to recess, to give to his studies a fixed and 
 absorbing attention. He should take notice of nothing 
 around him, he should for the time not know that there is 
 any thing else in existence, but the subject of his study. 
 
 2. The mind must be interested in the object. It is very 
 difficult to fix attention long upon any thing in which no in- 
 terest is felt. The pupil should therefore first consider the 
 importance of the knowledge to be acquired, so as to nerve 
 his mind to the work. Attention, then, serves to awaken 
 interest, and interest to fix attention. There is a reciprocity 
 of action. When there is little interest at first, the reliance 
 is mainly on the determination, sustained by a consideration 
 of the importance of the object ; as the attention becomes 
 steadily directed to the object, the interest in it increases, 
 until at length this alone may be sufficient to hold the 
 thoughts to it. 
 
 Many a person who has, at first, felt little interest in a sub- 
 ject, excepting what resulted from a mere sense of its im 
 portance, has by the study of it become so deeply interested 
 that effort became needful, not to attend to it, but to divert 
 his attention. Let not the pupil, therefore, be disheartened, 
 or abandon a study, because he feels at first no interest in 
 it. If the importance of the study demands attention, let 
 that attention be promptly and resolutely rendered, and an 
 interest will rise in the mind, which, by faithful nurture, 
 will steadily grow, and result in complete success. 
 
 3. Efforts of attention must be systematically repeated. 
 The mind does not grow by fits and starts, but by systematic 
 training. Systematic repetition has the effect to form a 
 habit, and this renders attention both steady and easy. 
 Even after the interest at first felt in a subject, has by long 
 familiarity become diminished, if a habit of attention to it 
 
ATTENTION. 195 
 
 has been formed, continued attention costs but little effort. 
 The mechanic, the artist, the professional man, may not 
 after years of devotion to his calling feel the same enthu- 
 siasm as at first, but having become accustomed to it, the 
 requisite attention is easy. 
 
 Here we see a wise provision of Providence, in making the 
 power of habit take the place of freshness of interest. And 
 he who has failed to secure this habit under the impulse of 
 fresh interest, will never realize the blessing of a well disci- 
 plined intellect, 
 
 RESULT. 
 
 When all these conditions are fulfilled, when there is 
 a firm purpose, a deep interest, a systematic and perse- 
 vering effort, the most profound and efficient attention is 
 the result. This is the grand element of success in every 
 study, in every pursuit. With this, Alpine difficulties are 
 surmounted, walls of adamant give way, before the firm and 
 resolute on-goings of the mind. This attainment is within 
 the reach of all ; and when made, it renders even the fee- 
 blest intellect effective. Let every pupil aspire to it, as of 
 greater and more enduring value than treasures of gold. 
 Let us now notice some of its particular advantages. 
 
 1. Fulness and accuracy of perception. What has 
 been previously said respecting perception, must be here 
 noticed. The mind does not perceive all the points of an 
 object at a glance. It apprehends one point after another, 
 until, by a protracted attention, the entire object is appre- 
 hended. The time required for this fulness of perception 
 varies with our previous knowledge of the object, with its 
 extent and complexity, and with the power of attention. 
 For a measurable time, more or less — varying from minutes 
 to hours and days — a fixed and absorbing attention is indis- 
 pensable to a clear and full perception of its subject. On 
 •this, therefore, depends the accuracy and extent of our 
 primary knoivledge. 
 
 2. Reach and value of our associations. Our 
 most obvious associations with any object, are of course natu- 
 rally first in our thoughts. If the attention is unsteady, 
 
196 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 bounding from one thing to another, these will be the only 
 associations formed. But the more remote associations, or 
 at least those less obvious at the first glance, are usually the 
 most valuable. They are the more scientific. Here runs 
 the line of demarkation between the superficial and the pro- 
 found thinker. The man of feeble and fickle attention, sees 
 things only in their more obvious, simple, accidental rela- 
 tions ; the man of firm and penetrating attention, sees them 
 in those far-reaching, complex, all-embracing relations, which 
 bind the universe together. The former sees facts only in 
 a fragmentary and disjointed state ; the latter sees them in 
 their mutual and wide relations. Originality of thought, 
 invention, discovery, scientific induction, result from that 
 power of attention which throws the associations out of the 
 beaten track. In this, more than perhaps any thing else, 
 lies the difference between the most ordinary mind and that 
 of a Newton or a Milton. 
 
 3. Memory. The memory depends upon attention almost 
 absolutely.* Indeed, without some degree of attention, it is 
 impossible to remember distinctly, even for a moment. 
 Speak to a man absorbed in thought, he hears, answers, 
 and in one minute has forgotten all. He paid so little 
 attention, his mind being so much occupied otherwise, that 
 there was not impression enough made to be remembered. 
 The clock strikes ; he takes out his watch, sets and winds 
 it, returns it to the pocket, and in less than a minute has 
 entirely forgotten what -he has heard and done. He was of 
 course conscious of all at the moment, but his attention was 
 too much wanting to fix it in the memory. What makes the 
 schoolboy forget his father's errand ? Because his thoughts 
 are so much occupied with his studies or his play, that he 
 does not sufficiently attend to what his father says. 
 
 EXAMPLE. 
 
 A remarkable instance of the dependence of memory on 
 attention, is furnished by a fact in the life of the late Pro- 
 
 * " C'est 1'attcntion. plus ou moins granclc, qui grave, plus ou moins 
 profoudement, les objets clans la memoire." Ilelvetius Dc FEsprit. See 
 Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 65. 
 
ATTENTION. 197 
 
 fessor Fisher, of Yale College. On one occasion, he was 
 so absorbed in some scientific investigation, that on the 
 ringing of the bell for dinner, he left his room, went to the 
 dining-hall, took his official position, invoked the benediction, 
 presided and ate his meal as usual, and returned to his 
 studies, without having afterwards the least recollection of 
 any thing that had taken place. Towards night he had 
 solved his problem, and bethought himself of dinner. On 
 looking at his watch, he was surprised to find the time for 
 dining had gone by several hours. Alarmed at his official 
 neglect, he went to an adjoining room to inquire who pre- 
 sided in his absence, and was yet more surprised on learn- 
 ing that he had presided himself. 
 
 The reasons why memory is so dependent on attention 
 are involved in what has already been said, and what re- 
 mains to be said under the head of Association. 
 
 PROFOUND ATTENTION CHARACTERISTIC OF GREAT MINDS. 
 
 It is impossible to make eminent intellectual attainments, 
 without an unusual degree of the poiver of attention. Hence 
 truly great minds have ever been eminently characterized 
 by it. It is said of Sir Isaac Newton, that he was often so 
 absorbed in study, that days and nights passed, and with 
 them his customary sleep and meals, without being by him 
 remembered. La Place is said sometimes to have forgotten 
 not only his sleep and his meals, but the presence and atten- 
 tions of his dearest friends. Leibnitz was so intensely occu- 
 pied with study and thought, for weeks together, as to forget 
 the season of the year, and sometimes mistook winter for 
 summer. Napoleon, a distinguished mathematician, as well 
 as general, when earnestly engaged in his studies, forgot 
 the customary civilities of his station, although at other 
 times one of the most courteous of men. The truth is, the 
 human mind cannot give the amount of attention requisite 
 to excel in a great and difficult subject of thought, without 
 for the time neglecting every thing else. It must be what 
 Horace calls totus in illis — wholly absorbed in its subject. 
 17* 
 
198 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ABSENT-MINDEDNESS NO MARK OE GREATNESS. 
 
 Absent-mindedness sometimes passes for evidence of pro- 
 found attention to important subjects. A man may be 
 absent-minded, because his thoughts are occupied on great 
 subjects ; but, ordinarily, it is because he is listless, thought- 
 less, stupid. Whenever men of deep thought are absent- 
 minded in company, it is their weakness, not their greatness, 
 that makes them so. There is a time for all things ; and 
 it is a mark of a truly great and well-bred mind, to be atten- 
 tive to the things on hand. Ordinarily, it is the weaker 
 minds, not taught to control attention, which are regardless 
 of the proprieties of time and place. Young people cannot 
 be too careful to form habits of ever wakeful presence of 
 mind. 
 
 DIVIDED ATTENTION. 
 
 Some interesting facts connected with this subject seem 
 worthy of notice, especially as philosophers have made them 
 matters of controversy. It is well known that men some- 
 times attend to two or three subjects at the same time. A 
 violinist will play one part and sing another. When a man 
 has become accustomed to setting types, he will set up page 
 after page with perfect accuracy, and be meanwhile thinking 
 upon another subject. The late Dr. D wight sometimes held 
 conversation with his friends, gave directions to others con- 
 nected with his official duties, and dictated a sermon to his 
 immanuensis, all at the same time. Almost every man 
 is sometimes engaged in writing letters of friendship or 
 business, while holding conversation with persons present. 
 The school teacher is frequently engaged in solving a mathe- 
 matical problem, requiring a long and careful process of 
 calculation, while attending to a recitation in some other 
 branch, and does both with a vigilance that detects the first 
 error. 
 
 Now what is the solution of these facts ? Does the mind 
 actually attend to two or three things at one and the same 
 instant ; or does it pass rapidly back and forth from the 
 
ATTENTION. 199 
 
 one to the other ? The latter seems to be the most philo- 
 sophical solution. In this respect, the mind seems like the 
 eye. We know that the eye is physically incapable of being 
 directed to but a single point at a time, and yet by the 
 rapidity of its movements it takes in many at a glance. It 
 seems indeed a contradiction to say, that the mind can point 
 its attention two ways at once. 
 
 That we are unconscious of the passing back and forth of 
 our volitions, is accounted for by their rapidity, and by the 
 fact that our attention is wholly directed to its several sub- 
 jects, and not to what is passing within us. Surely if the 
 eye, a physical instrument, can move with a rapidity defying 
 notice, much more the mind itself, whose movements are 
 the very lightning. 
 
 But there is another question, beyond the above, touching 
 the existence of the mental act itself. When a lady has 
 become an accomplished performer on the piano, she will 
 hold conversation, or have her mind otherwise occupied, 
 while going through a long and difficult piece with the 
 utmost accuracy. She is perhaps so much absorbed in 
 thinking upon some interesting matter, as not to recollect 
 what she performed, or even that she performed at all ? 
 The question is, whether every touch of the keys is accom- 
 panied with a mental act on her part. Dr. Hartley sup- 
 poses, that the intense rapidity of thought, bounding back 
 and forth between the keys and the other subjects of atten- 
 tion, is inconceivable ; and maintains that, by repetition, the 
 movement of the fingers has become purely mechanical or 
 automotive. " Habit," he says, " differs from instinct, not 
 in its nature but its origin ; the last being natural, the first 
 acquired. Both operate without will or intention, without 
 thought, and therefore may be called mechanical principles. 
 I conceive it to be a part of our constitution, that what we 
 have become accustomed to do, we acquire not only a facility 
 but a proneness to do on like occasions, so that the doing of 
 it often requires no will at all. An expert performer will 
 
200 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 play from notes, or ideas laid up in the memory, and at the 
 same time carry on a quite different train of thoughts in his 
 mind, or even hold conversation with another. Whence we 
 may conclude, that there is no intervention of the idea or 
 state of mind called will." * Cases of this kind he calls 
 " transitions of voluntary or intentional actions into automatic 
 
 OBJECTIONS TO THE ABOVE THEORY. 
 
 It is perhaps a sufficient objection to the above theory, in 
 a philosophical view, that it supposes an unknown element 
 in the human constitution — an element which no philo- 
 sophical analysis has ever been able to find. The theory is 
 therefore the admission of an effect without a cause. 
 
 That the movement cannot be mechanical or automatic, 
 seems evident from the fact that there is no machinery, no 
 mechanical contrivance, to operate as a motive power on the 
 fingers. The movement must therefore be produced by the 
 performer's volitions, for there is no other power. To say 
 that habit does it, is saying nothing to the purpose ; for the 
 habit of it is the habitual doing of it. 
 
 Moreover, that the performer's thoughts and volitions are 
 engaged in the performance, would seem certain from the 
 fact, that if any thing happens to disturb it, — if a chord 
 falter, a discordant note be struck, or a person playing in 
 concert make a mistake, she instantly stops. This she could 
 not do, unless her thoughts and volitions controlled her 
 fingers. It seems surprising that even no less a thinker 
 than Thomas Reid should have countenanced the above 
 theory. 
 
 HOW PHILOSOPHERS CAME TO ADOPT THIS THEORY. 
 
 We come to this conclusion : — that philosophers have 
 felt themselves forced into the above theory, by not duly 
 considering the amazing rapidity of which human thoughts 
 
 * Hartley's Essays on the Active Powers of Man, p. 128. 
 
ATTENTION. 201 
 
 and volitions are capable, and the comparative ease with 
 which they are directed, when long attention and practice 
 have brought them under perfect control. They may then 
 be made to pass back and forth, between two or more sub- 
 jects, with lightning speed, superintending and directing all 
 — and the subject which at the time most interests the mind, 
 is the one best remembered, perhaps the only one remem- 
 bered at all. This, again, shows how much memory depends 
 upon the feeling or passion with which a subject is contem- 
 plated, and how little upon the mere thought and volition. 
 It is & feeling of awakened interest that secures the measure 
 of attention to any one subject,- when brought into competi- 
 tion with others, requisite to secure for it a place in the 
 memory. The lady supposed above was passionately inter- 
 ested in a subject of thought, while the piano performance 
 had become an old affair that awakened no feeling, except- 
 ing when something went wrong. Into the latter she carried 
 only thought and volition, and therefore instantly forgot what 
 she played, and perhaps forgot even that she played at all ; 
 into the former she carried her passion, along with her 
 thoughts and volitions, and therefore retained of it a lively 
 remembrance. 
 
 RELATION OF ATTENTION TO RELIGION 
 
 The importance of a well formed habit of attention to 
 mental growth and the acquisition of knowledge, has been 
 already shown. Equally effective and still more important 
 it is, as related to the momentous verities of Christianity. 
 It is this, more than perhaps any other natural cause, that 
 contributes to the securing of that " faith," which " is 
 the substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of 
 things not seen." Why do so many walk in darkness, 
 even amid the splendors of heaven's most glorious 
 beams ? Why do so many live and die, as though there 
 were no God to serve, no Saviour to trust, no soul to save, 
 no heaven to gain ? Sufficient reason would be given, were 
 
202 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 it only replied, because they have never given that atten- 
 tion to Christianity, which it justly claims. The Creator 
 implanted the power of attention in their minds for great 
 purposes — of which this is the greatest — but they have 
 failed to improve it. 
 
 Let all pupils early commence, not only a thorough and 
 systematic training of the power of attention, but its faithful 
 application to the teachings of Christianity ; let them give, 
 at all appropriate seasons, a full and absorbing attention to 
 its stupendous facts, its high demands, its solemn sanctions ; 
 let them thus habitually bring their minds in close and 
 earnest contact with those gracious developments, which 
 solve the enigma of life, unbind the fetters of sin, lift up the 
 gates of the tomb, and pour the radiance of heaven over 
 eternity ; and the laws of mind and of God's government 
 assure us, that we have every reason to believe eternal life 
 wiil be theirs. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 To what have we hitherto confined our observations 1 Why is this 
 called primary knowledge ? What does it constitute ? What is said of 
 other mental powers ? With which shall we begin ? What powers have 
 brutes ? What other distinction is noticed between primary and secondary 
 ideas ? Considered as a mental attribute, what does attention imply 1 Is 
 it voluntary 1 Have brutes the power of attention ? Examples ? What 
 question among philosophers ? What seems evident from consciousness ? 
 Which are the best acts of attention ? Illustrate. How many rules for 
 fixing attention? First rule? Remarks'? Second rule ? Remarks? What 
 encouragement is given to the pupil ? Third rule ? Remarks ? What 
 the result ? First particular advantage ? How explained ? Second? How 
 explained ? What results from that power of attention which throws the 
 associations out of the beaten track ? Third. How much does memory 
 depend on attention ? How shown ? State the example. Of what is pro- 
 
QUESTIONS. 203 
 
 found attention the characteristic ? What is here said to be impossible 1 
 What cases axe cited? Is absent-mindedness a mark of greatness ? What 
 is said of it ! What is meant by divided attention ? Cases in illustration ? 
 What questions in solution of these facts ? What view is here given 1 
 What """as Hartley's theory, as illustrated by a musical performance ! 
 State the objection to this theory. How does it appear that the move- 
 ment cannot be mechanical ? Suppose we refer it to habit 1 How does 
 it appear certain that the performers thoughts are engaged? Why have 
 philosophers held the above theory ? Remarks ? How is the above 
 case explained ? What is said of the relation of attention to religion ? 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ASSOCIATION. 
 
 Our thoughts do not flow on at random. There is 
 mental power which binds them together. That power is 
 called Association. One thought never lives and dies alone. 
 Long before it dies, it brings another, another, a family oi 
 thoughts, to take its place ; and when it dies, it dies to live 
 again, by the magic touch of memory, in connection with 
 the vast progeny of thoughts to which it gave birth. We 
 may therefore define Association, That power which, when 
 we think of one thing, induces us to think of others sustain- 
 ing to it some relation. 
 
 ASSOCIATION AND SUGGESTION. 
 
 Thomas Brown merges Association in Suggestion, and re- 
 tains only the latter term. But the advantage is on the side 
 of the established nomenclature. Used in its largest sense, 
 the former term includes all that is expressed by the latter, 
 while it has the advantage of more exactly defining the laws 
 of mental operation. The mind is not moved to suggest, ex- 
 cepting as it is caused to do so ; and that cause is referable 
 to some form of association.* 
 
 * " A man, while awake, is conscious of a continued train of perceptions 
 and ideas passing in his mind. It requires no activity on his part to carry- 
 on the train ; nor can he at will add any idea to the train. For how could 
 this be done 1 What idea is it that we are to add ? If we can specify the 
 idea, that idea is already in the mind, and there is no occasion for any act 
 of the will. If we cannot specify any idea, I next demand, how can a per- 
 son will, or to what purpose, if there be nothing in view ? We cannot 
 form a conception of such a thing. If this argument need confirmation, 
 I urge experience : whoever makes a trial will find, that ideas are linked 
 together in the mind, forming a connected chain ; and that we have not 
 the command of any idea independent of the chain." Kaim's Elements, 
 p. 19, with note. New York edition, 1845. 
 
ASSOCIATION. 205 
 
 The falling of an apple, suggested to Sir Isaac Newton 
 the theory of universal gravitation : — The existence of evil, 
 in a moral government, suggests the hypothesis that it was 
 unavoidable : — A trifling incident suggested to Mr. Whit- 
 ney the problem, whose solution resulted in the famous cot- 
 ton gin : — The disastrous effects of intemperance, suggests 
 the inquiry, whether total abstinence is not best. In all 
 these cases, we see some form of association giving rise to 
 the suggestions. We see the working of that mental power, 
 by which one idea suggests or becomes in thought associated 
 with another. We shall therefore proceed, including what- 
 ever might be referred to suggestion under the generic term 
 association. 
 
 ASSOCIATION IN BKUTES. 
 
 That brutes have association, must be obvious to all who 
 notice their movements. The horse associates the manger 
 with food, the carriage with movement, the lash with pain. 
 When we drive a hungry horse along the road, if he sees a 
 shed with a manger by the way, he inclines to go to it. He 
 evidently thinks of his provender. When harnessed and 
 placed upon the way, he is impatient to move ; and when the 
 lash is raised, he leaps through fear, although no blow is in- 
 flicted. All domestic animals learn to associate certain 
 sounds with certain acts : — the ox, for instance, turns to 
 the right, to the left, halts, quickens his pace, or stops, as 
 the sound indicates. The fox, the squirrel, the rat, learns 
 to associate the trap with danger. 
 
 In most animals, dag is associated with activity, night with 
 repose. Nor can it be said that this is owing merely to 
 fatigue at night, inviting rest ; — for in case of an eclipse, 
 early in the day, cattle low as at night-fall, and fowls go to 
 their roost. Other periods of time have with them their asso- 
 ciations, as is evidenced by the periodical crowing of the cock, 
 singing of the nightingale, &c. But association in brute 
 mind is very limited, involving no reach of thought, being 
 connected with no rational powers. 
 18 
 
206 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 LAWS OF ASSOCIATION. 
 
 Association is not a blind power, but is regulated by exact 
 laws. To a certain extent, it is affected by causes without 
 us ; and to a certain extent it is under our own control. 
 The point where causes without us and our own agency 
 meet, is so nicely adjusted, as to secure our accountable 
 moral agency, and make us subjects of government. Let us 
 first notice those causes without, which act upon and move 
 our power of association. 
 
 1. Place. When we look upon a battle-field, we think 
 of carnage, fallen heroes, victory, defeat. When we look 
 upon the former residence of a poet, statesman, philosopher, 
 philanthropist, the illustrious dead who once lived there, is 
 in our thoughts. When we survey the ruins of Rome, 
 Greece, Egypt, the great men and great events once moving 
 there, are moving in our own minds. We associate the 
 home of our childhood with our childish sports ; — and ever, 
 to visit the place of our youth, instruction, marriage, and 
 earlier years of service, recalls the events once realized there, 
 and revives something of the feelings they once inspired. 
 Topical association feeds the poet's inspiration ; it consecrates 
 and renders classic the places of distinguished men and sig- 
 nal events ; it gives to the mountains, groves, rivers, plains, 
 the moss-grown mounds and tumbling walls, of certain coun- 
 tries in the old world, a present and ever growing impor- 
 tance. 
 
 2. Time. To the American, the fourth of July is asso- 
 ciated with independence. We associate the twenty-fifth of 
 December with the birth of Christ, and with the wonted 
 benedictions and festivities of the occasion. The New Eng- 
 lander associates Thanksgiving day with his noble ancestors 
 who instituted it, and with the customary domestic festivities 
 of that occasion. Association has filled our almanacs and 
 chronological tables with an almost endless list of interesting 
 days. Hence, periodical association is of great service, in 
 perpetuating both the facts and the interest of history. 
 
 3. Resemblance. When we see a person resembling 
 some dear friend, his presence brings that friend to our 
 
ASSOCIATION. 207 
 
 thoughts. When in a strange land we pass a house, or other 
 objects resembling those with which we have been familiar in 
 our own country, we think of home ; and if the resemblance 
 is striking, W e almost imagine ourselves there. Certain 
 sounds make us think of the sounds of instruments, or of the 
 human voice, which they resemble. A picture reminds us 
 of the person whom it represents. The art of the painter 
 and of the sculptor is founded on this law of association. 
 Classification is also mostly dependent upon it. 
 
 4. Contrast. We are inclined to associate in our 
 thoughts things opposed to each other, scarcely less than 
 those which are alike. When shivering with cold upon a 
 bleak wintry road, we think of the warm comforts of the fire- 
 side. Never does the storm-beaten mariner think more in- 
 tensely of sweet home, than when in circumstances the most 
 unlike it. The mind loves contrast. There is an excite- 
 ment — a thrill of pleasure — in dashing from one extreme 
 to another. Hence, the mind passes in thought from the 
 pigmy to the giant, from sorrow to joy, from despair to hope, 
 from pain to ease, from the cradle to the grave, from life to 
 death, from time to eternity. The mind delights to bring 
 together opposite colors, opposite tastes, opposite causes, 
 opposite characters. The figure called Antithesis is found- 
 ed on this law of association, — a figure in which bold and 
 dashing writers abound. 
 
 5. Symbols. The picture of an eye does not resemble 
 God, but it symbolizes him as the All-Seeing. A pair of 
 scales does not resemble justice, nor does a ring resemble 
 eternity, but they are appropriate symbols of the things they 
 severally suggest. The ant is not like industry, yet the pic- 
 ture of so industrious an animal naturally suggests that vir- 
 tue. On this principle, the entire alphabet of symbols is 
 constructed. So strongly do religious symbols become asso- 
 ciated with what is symbolized, that they sometimes become 
 themselves objects of religious homage. Hence, idol worship. 
 
 This principle of association is at the foundation of much 
 bold and animated rhetoric ; — as when we say, God is a 
 rock, a tower, a man of war, a consuming fire. 
 
 6. Cause and Effect. When we contemplate a cause, 
 its effect is suggested ; and in like manner the effect sug- 
 
208 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 gests the cause. The thunderbolt, ringing in our ears, 
 makes us think of the work of destruction ; and the rifted 
 oak directs our thoughts to the lightning that rent it. A 
 raging pestilence reminds us of death ; and as the dead are 
 borne by our windows to the grave, we think of the raging 
 pestilence. When we read an interesting book, we think of 
 its author, and when we see the author, we are reminded of 
 the book. This principle of association has a very wide and 
 important range, inciting the mind to various philosophical 
 inquiries. 
 
 7. Resemblance of Effects. We are wont to asso- 
 ciate things together, which produce effects bearing to each 
 other a resemblance, however dissimilar the things themselves. 
 Thus things that exhilarate or depress us, strengthen or 
 weaken, enhearten or discourage, w T e group together in 
 thought, although the one be a physical and the other a 
 spiritual cause. The presence of a friend in trouble we as- 
 sociate with a cordial, because in some sense both refresh us. 
 Whatever afflicts us, we associate with wormwood, because 
 both are unpleasant. On this principle, by an abridged meta- 
 phor we directly substitute the one cause for the other, 
 thus rendering description sprightly and elegant. We speak 
 of smiling skies, frowning cliffs, angry seas, treacherous 
 winds. On this principle are founded some of the finest 
 poetical allusions ; and unless the sensibilities of the reader 
 are in accordance with those of the poet, he can neither ap- 
 preciate nor enjoy them. 
 
 8. Accidental Relations. A present is associated 
 with the person who gave it ; a dress, with the person who 
 wore it ; a house, with the distinguished man who once lived 
 in it. When relations of this sort become permanent, how- 
 ever arbitrary, they are as suggestive as any that can be 
 formed. The relation is thus established between musical 
 characters and musical sounds; between certain words and 
 the sounds they denote, and between sounds and the ideas 
 they represent; between language and thought. Hence, 
 the entire machinery and power of language depends on this 
 principle of association. 
 
 Such are the principal causes tending to excite the mental 
 power now under consideration. We at once perceive that 
 
ASSOCIATION. 209 
 
 "without this power in exercise, our thoughts would be isolat- 
 ed, scattered, floating at random in every direction. Each 
 fact entering the mind through the senses, would be an indi- 
 viduality, standing apart from every other fact on the great 
 sea of observation, without either meaning or value. Each 
 idea must come alone, introduced by a special act of atten- 
 tion — a stranger and sojourner — to be taken care of, but 
 to do nothing towards introducing and taking care of others. 
 Association lifts her potent sceptre ; the marshalled hosts 
 obey, and gather before the mind's eye in beauteous order, 
 to go forth to service with ever growing numbers. The re- 
 lations of this power to memory ', will be considered in con- 
 nection with that subject. 
 
 HOW WE MAY CONTROL OUR ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 Although we cannot stop the current of ideas produced 
 by association, we may direct it. It is in every man's power 
 to render his association of ideas either good or bad. He 
 may hold an idea suggestive of evil long in his mind, until it 
 has put his associations upon an evil track ; or he may at 
 once dismiss that idea, in favor of another tending to good. 
 " Of the powers which the mind possesses over the train of 
 its thoughts," says Stewart, " the most obvious is its power of 
 singling out any one of them at pleasure ; of detaining it ; 
 and of making it a particular object of attention. By doing 
 so, we not only stop the succession that would otherwise 
 take place, but, in consequence of our bringing to view the 
 less obvious relations among our ideas, we frequently direct 
 the current of our thoughts into a new channel." * 
 
 Lord Kaims holds the following language, to the same pur- 
 pose : — " Though we cannot add to the train an unconnect- 
 ed idea, yet, in a measure,, we can attend to some ideas, and 
 dismiss others. There are few things but what are connect- 
 ed with many others ; and when a thing thus connected be- 
 comes a subject of thought, it commonly suggests many of 
 its connections. Among these a choice is afforded : we can 
 
 * Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 167. 
 
 18* 
 
210 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 insist upon one, rejecting others ; and sometimes we insist on 
 ■what is commonly held the slighter connection." * 
 
 Association, then, is so placed under our control, as to 
 lay on every man the full responsibility of the consequences 
 to which it leads him. 
 
 CIRCUMSTANCES AFFECTING ASSOCIATION. 
 
 Constitutional difference, and difference of pursuit, have 
 much influence in modifying our associations. Every 
 man's associations gather with peculiar force around the 
 things connected with his particular calling. Those con- 
 nected with scenes of classic interest, for example, are strong- 
 er and more numerous with the student than with the man 
 of business. Let a clergyman, a machinist, and a money- 
 getting man, visit a manufacturing establishment together, 
 and, with precisely the same objects before them, the thoughts 
 of the first will be employed upon the moral and religious as- 
 pect of things ; those of the second, upon the perfection, in- 
 genuity, or defects of the machinery ; those of the third, 
 upon the value of investments there, and prospects of gain. 
 Entirely different trains of association will be started in these 
 several minds, and each will probably think the others re- 
 markably stupid. " In consequence of these associations, 
 every man appears to his neighbor to pursue the object of 
 his wishes, with a zeal disproportioned to its intrinsic 'value ; 
 and the philosopher, whose principal enjoyment arises from 
 speculation, is frequently apt to smile at the ardor with which 
 the active part of mankind pursue what appear to him to be 
 mere shadows." f 
 
 INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON SCIENCE AND THE ARTS. 
 
 The principal reason why some men are more inventive 
 than others, is, that they so control their associations, that 
 they conduct them out of the beaten track to things un- 
 
 * Kiiims' Elements of Criticism, p. 20. 
 t .Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 219. 
 
ASSOCIATION. 211 
 
 noticed by others. A variety of things may be so related to 
 the same object, that either of them may be more or less 
 brought into view. Most men let their thoughts light upon 
 only the more obvious relations, and pass along. The man 
 of genius pauses, thinks, looks after things rare and valuable, 
 rather than those first in his associations, and thus strikes out 
 an original track. 
 
 Most men, sitting in an orchard and seeing apples fall 
 from the trees, would be led to think of the ripeness and 
 desirableness of the fruit ; of its scarcity or abundance ; of 
 its market value, &c. A man of genius thought perhaps of 
 these things, but he did not dismiss the matter here : — he 
 thought of more. The falling of that apple is like the fall- 
 ing of other bodies. What makes them fall ? Does not 
 the same law regulate the falling of all bodies ? Their ve- 
 locity increases as they approach the earth : — how is this ? 
 May it not be that all bodies tend towards each other, in 
 obedience to one and the same law ? Thus suggestion keeps 
 extending the operation of the associating principle, until the 
 falling of that apple becomes connected with the rolling of 
 suns and planets in the heavens. In the same way does this 
 principle become subservient to all the inventions and im- 
 provements, in the various arts, that bless and adorn hu- 
 manity. 
 
 The pressure of necessity sometimes contributes to force 
 the mind out of its wonted channel to objects more remote, 
 and thus to make a dull genius inventive. Many of the in- 
 ventions most important to mankind, have come to pass in 
 this way. Hence, the common remark, " Necessity is the 
 mother of invention" 
 
 INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON SPECULATIVE JUDGMENT. 
 
 When truth is dug from the mine, it seldom comes free 
 of alloy. The pure and the base being thus associated in 
 our minds, it becomes the work of original thought to sepa- 
 rate them. Some of the errors incorporated with early sys- 
 tems of philosophy, we have to this day hardly consented to 
 abandon ; and false philosophies engrafted with religious 
 
212 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 truths, often become so sanctified by association, that the most 
 vigorous originality of thought, at the hazard of incurring 
 public odium, can scarcely avail to disunite them. This re- 
 sults from the fact, that the two subjects of thought, the 
 truth and the error, have become so closely united in the 
 mind, that it requires a peculiar effort to consider them apart, 
 and conduct a process of reasoning which relates exclu- 
 sively to either. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON LOVE OF MONEY. 
 
 The untaught child places no value on a bundle of old 
 bank notes. A picture, worth only a penny, is by him more 
 valued than thousands of dollars. The value which he sub- 
 sequently learns to attach to these little bits of rusty paper, 
 is the w T ork of association. He connects them with indepen- 
 dence, luxury, importance, distinction. A man witnessing 
 for the first time the burning of a large bundle of old bank 
 notes, as is the custom at banks when new are to be substitut- 
 ed, fetched a deep sigh and said, That goes to my heart. 
 The same is true of the origin of our love of all property. If 
 the affection passes over from the objects which money repre- 
 sents to the money itself, it constitutes not only a worldling, 
 but a miser; — not only a miserable man, as the term de- 
 notes, but one of earth's most eminent fools. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON FASHION. 
 
 The prevailing fashions of anyplace or period, are regulat- 
 ed almost wholly by association. Convenience, comfort, 
 economy, health, education, even life itself, are all more or 
 less under its stern control. This proves the dominancy of 
 this attribute in the mental constitution. Let a particular 
 dress, custom, style of living, become associated with high 
 life,' and it is soon adopted by all classes as fashionable. 
 When the lower orders have adopted it, it becomes vulgar 
 with the higher, and they hasten to reject it for another. 
 Thus fashion runs an eternal round, laying the bands of an iron 
 
ASSOCIATION. 213 
 
 slavery on all who have not enough of good sense or philoso- 
 phy to control their association of ideas. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON TASTE AND GENERAL 
 CHARACTER. 
 
 Every day, every hour, is furnishing materials, around 
 which our future thoughts are to cluster. Every idea now 
 cherished, will become a nucleus to others ; every mental 
 act, parent to a future progeny of mental acts. Thus the 
 poetry that tells us the child is the father of the man, be- 
 comes sober and earnest prose. While the mental associa- 
 tions are young and partially formed, they are easily direct- 
 ed ; but when they have become mature and full, they are 
 as the great river formed of many streams. If reformation 
 is attempted, success is partial ; all future life is a struggle 
 to break the chain of early associations. 
 
 Even in a mere literary view, the subject is important. 
 Let two youths of equal talent enter upon literary pursuits, 
 the one previously of grovelling, and the other of ele- 
 vated habits of thought and conduct : — although equally 
 industrious in their pursuits, the one will be ever pure, dig- 
 nified, refined, in his thoughts, words, figures, — such will 
 be the natural current of his mind ; — while the other will 
 frequently oifend our taste with the vulgarity of his allusions 
 and the coarseness of his expressions. His writings will pre- 
 sent a strange medley of refinement and grossness, of splen- 
 dor and vulgarity. The man of pure taste and true refine- 
 ment, has been so formed from childhood by the influence of 
 right associations. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON MORALS. 
 
 Many a youth has been led into immorality, vice, and 
 ultimate ruin, by false associations. Let him once learn to 
 associate idleness, extravagance, profanity, licentiousness, 
 with high life and fashion ; let him associate austerity, 
 gloom, bigotry, with strict morals, and the high way to his 
 
214 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ruin is already paved. Nothing short of a complete mental 
 revolution can save him. 
 
 In his Theory of Moral Sentiments, Adam Smith remarks, 
 " In the reign of Charles II., a degree of licentiousness was 
 deemed the characteristic of a liberal education. It was 
 connected, according to the notions of those times, with gene- 
 rosity, sincerity, magnanimity, loyalty ; and proved that the 
 person who acted in this manner, was a gentleman, and not 
 a puritan. Severity of manners, and regularity of conduct, 
 on the other hand, were altogether unfashionable, and were 
 connected, in the imagination of that age, with cant, cun- 
 ning, hypocrisy, and low manners. To superficial minds, 
 the vices of the great seem at all times agreeable. They 
 connect them, not only with the splendor of fortune, but with 
 many superior virtues which they ascribe to their superiors; 
 with the spirit of freedom and independence ; with frank- 
 ness, generosity, humanity, and politeness. The virtues of 
 the inferior ranks of people, on the contrary, their parsimo- 
 nious frugality, their painful industry, and rigid adherence 
 to rules, seem to them mean and disagreeable. They con- 
 nect them both with the meanness of the station to which 
 these stations commonly belong, and with many great vices 
 which they suppose usually accompany them ; such as an 
 abject, cowardly, ill-natured, lying, pilfering, disposition." 
 
 The truth and importance of the above remarks cannot 
 fail to commend themselves to every mind. To ail youth, and 
 to all who have the charge of their education, they read a 
 lesson of duty which cannot be mistaken. 
 
 INFLUENCE OF ASSOCIATION ON RELIGION. 
 
 The power of association, partially applied, has contributed 
 largely to create a fatal prejudice in multitudes against 
 Christianity. From the earliest ages, the Christian religion 
 has been eminently the poor man's friend, and vast numbers 
 from the humbler walks have lived and died, rejoicing in its 
 blessings. " To the poor the gospel is preached" said 
 
 * Smith's Theory of Moral Sentiment, quoted by Dugalcl Stewart, 
 Vol. I., p. 216. 
 
ASSOCIATION. 215 
 
 Christ, and the sacred writer informs us, that " the common 
 people heard him gladly.'' 7 This circumstance gives to 
 Christianity, in many minds, the aspect of vulgarity. 
 Thoughtless minds, looking upon Lazarus in rags, and Dives 
 in splendor, associating the one with irreligion, and the other 
 with Christianity, would hardly fail to consider Christianity a 
 mean and beggarly affair. But is it so ? Or has the Crea- 
 tor given us this mental power to mislead us ? Far other- 
 wise ; — the fault lies in the perverted use of it. Let the 
 Christian be contemplated in all his relations — to God, to 
 angels, to heaven, to eternity, as well as to time, — let Laz- 
 arus be seen in Abraham's bosom, amid the riches and splen- 
 dors of heaven's court, and Dives infinitely more abject and 
 poor than Lazarus ever was, — let the despised exile in 
 Patmos be viewed, not as a condemned criminal, but an 
 honored servant of God, encircled with bright spirits, and 
 held in special honor by heaven's nobility, — let all those 
 early Christians, who toiled in poverty and reproach, be con- 
 templated in the light of the benign work they accomplished 
 — the mighty wave of blessings which rolled out from under 
 their hands, and which continues to sweep downward, with 
 ever swelling volumes, through all ages — while the worldly 
 and the gay, w T ho rolled in wealth and splendor over them, 
 have long since passed to utter oblivion, — and, if faith can 
 look onward to the final judgment, and to the scenes that 
 lie beyond, let impiety and irreligion be there seen in the re- 
 lations assigned them by Christianity, — then let it be deter- 
 mined to which side Association gives her aid. This power, 
 like all others, was given us to be used; — and, like all 
 others, when used aright, will not fail to do its part towards 
 elevating us to the dignity and glory for which we were 
 made. 
 
 Here is an important particular in which man differs from 
 the brute. The associations of the brute can extend only to 
 what is seen and temporal; — those of man can penetrate that 
 vast kingdom of moral interests and relations, whose centre 
 is God, and whose throne is eternity. Let every pupil, 
 who would aspire to a thorough education, throw his associa- 
 tions far upward and onward, and shape his course for an 
 
 ETERNAL LIFE. 
 
216 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 What is said of our thoughts ? How may we define association ? Into 
 what does Brown merge association % What is said of his view ? In- 
 stances of association ? Have brutes association ? Give examples. What 
 causes operate to control our associations ? The first cause without us ? 
 Illustrations? The second? Illustrations? Third? Illustrations'? Fourth? 
 Illustrations'? Fifth? Illustrations? Sixth? Illustrations? Seventh? 
 Illustrations ? Eighth ? Illustrations ? What do we hence perceive ? 
 Can we control our associations ? How ? Remark of Stewart ? Kaims ? 
 What circumstances affect association? Around what do every man's 
 associations gather with peculiar force ? Illustrations ? The principal 
 reason why some are more inventive than others 7 Illustrations ? What 
 is said of the influence of association on speculative judgment ? On love 
 of money ? On fashion ? On taste and general character ? In a literary 
 view? Of the influence of association on morals? Remark of Adam 
 Smith ? On religion ? Remarks on this subject ? What must every 
 pupil do, who would aspire to a thorough education ? 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MEMORY. 
 
 We were not made to live merely in the present. In- 
 deed, strictly speaking, all our experiences and observations 
 relate to past time, the present being but a point. 
 
 Memory may be briefly defined, the potver of recalling 
 the past. It is by virtue of this, that we, as it were, live 
 over and over the lives of our former days and former years. 
 Memory has been supposed to denote two faculties, the 
 capacity of retaining knowledge and the power of recalling 
 it : * — the term memory being applied to the former, and 
 recollection to the latter. In this view, we are said to com- 
 mit to memory a poem, and keep it for use whenever we 
 wish to call it up. Hence the poem may be said to be per- 
 manently in our memory, but not in our recollection, except- 
 ing when we choose to think of it. 
 
 But, strictly speaking, the mind does not carry the thing 
 remembered around with it, as in a vessel ; it is simply 
 placed in such relation to it, or made so well acquainted 
 with it, as to be able to recall it at pleasure. Capacity 
 is a figure, implying a vessel which holds what we put in it. 
 As memory is an active principle, we are in less danger of 
 being misled, by divesting the definition of all figure bor- 
 rowed from physical ideas, and considering it simply the 
 power by which we recall the past. 
 
 * " This faculty implies two things ; a capacity of retaining knowledge, 
 and a power of recalling it to our thoughts, when we have occasion to 
 apply it to use." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 224. 
 
 19 
 
218 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 IS MEMORY AN ULTIMATE POWER? 
 
 Some philosophers have not considered memory an ulti- 
 mate power in the mental constitution, but a compound of 
 conception and perception. Thus, every act of memory is 
 supposed to be a conception of some object or event, attended 
 with a perception of its relation to past time. Such is the 
 view of Dugald Stewart, and it has been adopted by others.* 
 
 Now Stewart maintains that " every act of conception is 
 accompanied with a belief, that its object exists before us at 
 the present moment." Here is a contradiction; inasmuch 
 as the very idea of memory implies the absence of its object. 
 The following is his solution : — " The only way that occurs 
 to me of removing this difficulty, is, by supposing that the 
 remembrance of a past event is not a simple act of the 
 mind ; but that the mind first forms a conception of the 
 event, then judges from circumstances of the period of time 
 to which it is to be referred." f Memory may operate in 
 this way sometimes, but does she always? How often, 
 running back the track of time, with a view to recalling an 
 event, does she light upon it as an event of the past ? — so 
 that the event could not enter the mind, that is, be thought 
 of, as a present, but only as a past event. Memory is a 
 very free and active power ; she will not brook the tram- 
 mels of a rigid philosophy. $ 
 
 * " Our remembrances are nothing more than conceptions, united with 
 the notion of a certain relation to time." Browns Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 412. 
 " Memory is that power or susceptibility of the mind, by which those 
 conceptions are originated, which are modified by a perception of the rela- 
 tion of past time." UpJiarts Philosophy, p. 167. 
 
 t Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 225. 
 
 \ " Conception," says Stewart, " implies no idea of time whatever," Vol. 
 I., p. 79. If then memory is made up of conception and perception, there 
 remains no other theory of solution than the one given by him. Now I 
 agree that conception alone implies no idea of time; but I consider 
 mcmoi-y an ultimate mental power, which, by the aid of conception and other 
 powers, directly recalls past events as such. 
 
MEMORY. 219 
 
 REASONS FOR CONSIDERING MEMORY AN ULTIMATE POWER. 
 
 1. Although conception and perception are in the service 
 of memory, so also are attention, association, and other 
 powers. All the mental powers are brought by the mind, 
 more or less, into mutual service. The mind is itself a 
 unit : — its ultimate powers are powers of one and the 
 same unit to do, in various ways, certain classes of things. 
 Memory is no more dependent on the other mental powers, 
 than the others are on memory ; aDd as the services per- 
 formed by memory are as characteristic and important as 
 those which we ascribe to the other mental powers, it seems 
 to claim a rank with them. 
 
 2. The operations of memory are too multiform to be 
 brought within the range of the restricted definition, to 
 which I object. That we first put into operation one mental 
 power and conceive of a past event, and then put on duty 
 another power and determine its relation to the past, and 
 that this is the uniform and only mode in which memory 
 operates, is a theory too narrow to tally with human expe- 
 rience. The theory originated among the early writers, as 
 part of a system, and appears to have been handed along 
 down to us, without having been seriously disputed. 
 
 3. Stewart's method of defending this theory does not 
 meet the difficulty. He explains it by the rapidity of our 
 mental operations, placing them beyond our observation. 
 But rapidity cannot change the order of things, although it 
 may place them beyond our immediate notice. When a 
 man in the country sets down to relate to his family the 
 incidents of the fourth of July, which he witnessed the day 
 before in the city, all minds first go back to the past day ; — 
 past time is thought of; and it is thought of, not as a 
 present, but as a past day. He begins and recalls incident 
 after incident, every one of which is directly thought of as 
 an incident of the past day. That he first thinks of those 
 incidents as present realities, and then by a second act refers 
 them to the day on which they happened, is reversing the 
 real order. Instead of its being, first the incidents and 
 then the day, it is first the day and then the incidents. It 
 
220 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 may be either way, and every way, according as the mind 
 sets itself to work. As I have intimated, memory is a very 
 free power, — she is limited to no one method of operation. 
 Perhaps the above strictures may seem unimportant. 
 They have not been made without feelings of reluctance at 
 differing from such eminent authorities ; but it has appeared 
 to me, that so important a power as memory, ought to be 
 restored to its rank among the elemental faculties of the 
 soul. Too many are inclined to think it a secondary and 
 comparatively unimportant faculty. But it is one on which, 
 pre-eminently, all the mental functions depend. Without 
 it, we could live only in the present point : — all the past 
 would lie eternally under the dark blot of oblivion. — Mental 
 life would be but a series of perceptions and intuitions, flit- 
 ting through and passing away, without leaving a trace of 
 themselves behind. Letters written by the finger upon 
 water, would be as enduring as impressions made upon the 
 human mind. Of course, all the mental powers would be 
 at a stand, and man would be the mere creature and sport 
 of the present moment. 
 
 MEMOEY IN BRUTES. 
 
 So important is this power, even to life itself, that it is 
 bestowed on the brute creation, in common with man. It is 
 certain that brutes remember, although it might be difficult 
 to show that they first conceive of a past event as a present 
 reality, and then perceive its relation to past time. Bereaved 
 kine remember their offspring, and often mourn for weeks 
 on being bereaved of them. If they did not remember, they 
 would cease to mourn. The dog remembers his master; 
 years of absence do not avail to sunder the cords which bind 
 this faithful servant to the man who reared and caressed him. 
 The horse remembers his keeper, the place where he was 
 fed, where he fell, where he was frightened. 
 
 Some^ have attempted to resolve all these into mere 
 recognitions. On this theory, the absent object is not 
 thought of, but only recognized, when returned. But this 
 does not account for the signs of bereavement and sorrow. 
 
MEMORY. 221 
 
 If the absent object were not thought of, it could not pro- 
 duce these effects. Moreover, the trained animal remem- 
 bers the smart of the lash, and hence takes precaution to 
 avoid its return. If it were a mere recognition, he could 
 not be trained ; since fear, in this case, implies memory. 
 It is on the power of memory that we rely, in the training 
 of all our domestic animals. 
 
 MEMORY UNIVERSAL. 
 
 The existence of memory is clearly marked in every 
 human being, from the dawn of intellect. It is also pos- 
 sessed in more equal measure, than is usually supposed. 
 Mankind generally do or may remember all that is essential 
 to their well-being. The events of former days, months, 
 years ; the course of their past lives ; the histories of men 
 and nations of other times, which they have read ; are all 
 remembered with great accuracy. Probably every individual 
 of the thousands who served in the revolutionary war, could 
 relate, at any subsequent period of a long life, all the cam- 
 paigns, battles, victories, and various important incidents, 
 of which he was witness. Scarcely less perfect is our recol- 
 lection of events of which we have read, provided we were 
 interested in them. Who that has read the History of 
 Napoleon's expedition into Russia, has ever forgotten it ? 
 It is a quarter of a century since I read that eventful tra- 
 gedy, and its thrilling incidents are nearly as vivid in my 
 recollection now, as at the first month after the book was 
 read. And this is the common experience. Not one in a 
 thousand, who ever read that history, will ever forget it. 
 Memory is then a faculty possessed in almost equal measure 
 by all men. Its inequalities are like those of the earth's 
 surface, which, though they seem great to the superficial 
 observer, are small compared with the entire depth of the 
 globe. 
 
 19* 
 
222 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 CIRCUMSTANCES AFFECTING MEMORY. 
 
 Still, there are inequalities of memory. Some men re- 
 member better than others. The difference, however, is 
 more in kind than degree. One man's memory is quick ; — 
 another's is slow. The memory of one is general ; that of 
 another minute. One man is famous for remembering names, 
 dates, localities. Another scarcely remembers these at all, 
 but remembers all the important facts connected with 
 them. 
 
 Every man's memory varies with the periods of his life 
 and states of his physical system. Causes affecting memory 
 may be included in the following particulars. 
 
 1. Constitutional temperament. Some are constitu- 
 tionally quick in all things. They attend, perceive, asso- 
 ciate, compare, and judge, quickly. Their eyes flash like 
 the electric fire, and are the index of their thoughts. Both 
 their phsyical and mental movements are full of nerve : — 
 they step quick ; they think quick. Their memory is of 
 course in keeping. Others are, in all these particulars, 
 constitutionally slow. But, although their memories, like 
 their other powers, are slower in operating than those of the 
 other class, they are no less comprehensive, exact, retentive. 
 They only require more time. 
 
 2. Habits of attention. One person, on returning 
 from church, can repeat the heads, arguments, inferences, 
 and most striking thoughts, of the sermon which he heard ; 
 while another remembers little else than the preacher's man- 
 ner, voice, gestures. Without adverting here to other 
 causes, it is sufficient to say, that the attention of the one 
 was directed to the manner ; that of the other, to the mat- 
 ter. It is by a fixed attention that the mind obtains a firm 
 and enduring embrace of its subject. What was said under 
 the head of Perception, must here again be called to mind. 
 As the mind does not embrace all the points of an object at 
 once, it is only by a fixed attention that sufficient fulness of 
 perception is obtained, to secure to the memory a permanent 
 hold. 
 
 Two men ride out together on a summer's morning, to en- 
 
MEMORY. 223 
 
 joy a country scene. On returning, the one is able to recall 
 the features of that scene: every hill, dale, grove, cot- 
 tage ; the frowning rock, the deep ravine ; the meandering 
 stream, and the waving corn in the valleys ; the cattle 
 grazing on the slopes, and the men gathering the harvest ; 
 the gardens, orchards, fruits, flowers, — are all so imprinted 
 on his memory, that he needs only a painter's hand to pic- 
 ture them exactly on canvas. His companion has only the 
 general recollection of a very pleasant ride through a very 
 pleasant country. The one attended, the other did not 
 attend, to what was passing before their eyes as they rode 
 along. 
 
 3. Habits of philosophic arrangement. When a 
 mind has formed the habit of associating things together in 
 the relations of cause and effect, genus and. species, the 
 whole and its parts, the container and the contained, mem- 
 ory is far more comprehensive and retentive, than when she 
 deals in mere details. This is called philosophical memory. 
 Apply it, for example, to the study of geography. The 
 object is so to learn as to remember the most important facts. 
 Suppose the learner first ascertains the natural productions 
 of a given temperature, and the temperature embraced 
 between given latitudes. He has then only to learn the 
 latitude of a country, in order to know, with considerable 
 exactness, all its varieties of animals, birds, insects ; all its 
 numerous grains and vegetables ; its probable exports and 
 imports: he is much assisted in determining the general 
 character and habits of the people, the prevalent diseases of 
 the country, &c. Having ascertained that elevation affects 
 climate, like higher degrees of latitude, he perceives that 
 Mexico, and other mountainous countries of the tropics, 
 must furnish the productions of both warm and cold climates. 
 
 With such helps, it is easy to remember. The truth is, 
 there is little left for memory to do. The mind is furnished 
 with a priori knowledge. The work is in a great measure 
 taken from memory, and given to the associations and deduc- 
 tions of philosophical thinking. The same method of assist- 
 ing memory may be extended to nearly or quite all studies, 
 and every wise teacher will encourage it. 
 
 4. Habits of detail. Whether there is really so much 
 
224 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 difference between this kind of memory and the preceding, 
 as is generally supposed, may be doubted. All men are 
 philosophers, in their way. The chief difference between 
 them is, that while some associate by the set rules of science, 
 others, not conversant with these rules, associate things and 
 remember by rules of their own devising. Men of the 
 merest detail have their associations of ideas, by which they 
 are enabled to remember. But their associations being 
 more obvious and less comprehensive than those of philo- 
 sophical minds, their memories are of course more conver- 
 sant with details, than with classes of facts. These are 
 called circumstantial memories. The term is very expressive 
 of the thing meant. Circumstantial denotes the things or 
 events that stand around. Memory is here dependent on 
 what happens to stand directly around what is remembered, 
 rather than by any scientific arrangement of ideas. 
 
 I knew a stage-coach driver, who had for many years 
 done errands in Boston, for people living on his route 
 through the country. The fidelity with which he uniformly 
 executed his commissions, had procured him an extensive 
 business. After discharging his passengers at the hotel, 
 he would drive around into various parts of the city, thread 
 numerous alleys and by-ways, attend to some twenty or 
 thirty commissions at as many places, and then return to 
 the hotel, having with great exactness performed all that 
 was assigned him. Yet he used no paper, and kept no visi- 
 ble record of any kind. 
 
 Curious to know how this was done, the common privilege 
 of our country was indulged. He replied, that when he 
 began he had but one or two errands. As his business 
 increased, his power of memory increased ; so that he could 
 now as easily remember thirty errands, as at first he could 
 five. He had formed the habit of so associating every 
 errand, and whatever was peculiar in it, with the name of 
 the family, the name and number of the street to which it 
 belonged, and he so strung them all together in his mind, that 
 he knew the precise route to take. The doing of the first 
 errand suggested the next, and that the next, and so on, 
 until the whole was completed. This is circumstantial 
 memory, resulting from careful habits of detail. It has its 
 
MEMORY. 225 
 
 value. In some callings, success depends almost absolutely 
 upon it. 
 
 5. Vocation. Every person best remembers things con- 
 nected ivith his own vocation. This is because he is best 
 acquainted with them, and most interested in them. Those 
 things in which we are most interested fix our attention 
 most, and are therefore best remembered. When a student 
 visits a foreign library, he ever afterwards remembers various 
 books there, which the ordinary visitor scarcely remembers 
 beyond the threshold of the building. A lady conversant 
 with the fashionable toilette remembers all the particulars 
 of a distinguished belle's dress at a ball ; while most of the 
 gentlemen present, with memories not inferior to hers, recol- 
 lect very little about it. The memory of an epicure is very 
 retentive of the various wines and dishes of an entertain- 
 ment ; while the man of literary or philosophical pursuits, 
 remembers only the interesting topics of conversation con- 
 nected with his studies.* This may be called professional 
 memory, — that is, memory as modified by a man's pursuits. 
 
 6. Age. All have observed the failure of memory with 
 the advance of old age. Ordinarily, it begins to serve less 
 faithfully near the age of fifty, and becomes gradually im- 
 paired as years pass over. There is also a difference as to 
 the things remembered. In youth, memory is more casual, 
 clinging most tenaciously to incidents which happen to 
 interest, however unimportant. At a later period, it be- 
 comes more judicious, selecting the more important things, 
 and being more methodical. 
 
 The failure of memory, as age advances, is owing mostly 
 to physical causes. Passion, the handmaid of memory, is 
 enfeebled through loss of the sap of life ; hence, things being 
 regarded with less feeling, they are more readily forgotten. 
 
 Some philosophers have supposed, as a cause of the fail- 
 ing of memory, a derangement or partial loss of the power 
 
 *" A person who has not been accustomed to attend particularly to 
 horses or cattle, may study for a considerable time the appearance of a 
 horse or of a bullock, without being able, a few days afterwards, to pro- 
 nounce on his identity ; while a horse-dealer or a grazier recollects many 
 hundreds of that class of animals with which he is conversant, as perfectly 
 as he does the faces of his acquaintances." Steivart's Philosophy, Vol. I., 
 p. 227. 
 
226 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of association. But this is a gratuitous supposition, since the 
 fact is sufficiently accounted for by the single cause above 
 noticed. Morever, the fact that very aged people remem- 
 ber so minutely the events of childhood, is evidence that 
 their association is still vigorous. 
 
 7. Disease. The effects of disease upon memory are 
 very marked ; sometimes extraordinary. The most curious 
 fact is, that the same disease sometimes quickens and some- 
 times suspends its functions. This is doubtless owing to the 
 different effects of congestion, withdrawing the vital force 
 from the organs more especially concerned with memory, or 
 concentrating it upon them. So that although it may be 
 technically the same disease in both cases, it differs in de- 
 gree and in respect to the point of concentration. A cer- 
 tain degree of congestion may quicken memory ; another 
 degree may suspend its functions ; just as a certain quan- 
 tity of alcohol exhilarates, and that quantity increased pro- 
 duces torpor and even death. 
 
 On arising from severe sickness, men have frequently 
 been alarmed at the failure of their memories. Students 
 have forgotten their languages, their mathematics, their 
 history ; men of business have forgotten the details of their 
 affairs, and scarcely knew how to proceed or where to begin. 
 The same persons, while the exhilaration of the fever was 
 on, betrayed symptoms of extraordinary memory in all these 
 particulars. The lessons of boyhood, long neglected, are 
 revived and repeated with extraordinary fluency and exact- 
 ness. By a natural law of reaction, when the undue ex- 
 citement is over, a proportionate torpor succeeds. As much 
 as the powers of memory were before above their natural 
 level, so much are they now beloiv it. Gradually, however, 
 as health and strength return, does memory rise to her 
 true position and resume her appropriate functions. 
 
 characteristics of a good memory. 
 
 As men have ordinarily memory enough, a good memory 
 is rather a term of quality than of quantity. Many have 
 the unenviable habit of remembering much that ought 
 
QUESTIONS. 227 
 
 to be forgotten, and of forgetting much that ought to be re- 
 membered. The memory should be trained to sever the 
 wheat from the chaff, and to store up healthful food for the 
 future nourishment of the mind. He who is at no pains to 
 direct the memory, but allows it to run at large, remembers 
 as much, perhaps, as he who carefully trains it ; but the one 
 grows up a simpleton, the other a wise man. The memory of 
 the one stores the mind with treasures of valuable knowledge ; 
 that of the other fills it with a world of nonsense. The 
 conditions of a good memory then, are, to be susceptible to 
 what ought to be remembered, to be retentive of it, and to 
 have it at ready command. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 What is memory ? What has it been supposed ? What is strictly true ? 
 What have some considered memory? What does Stewart maintain'? 
 Eeply ? What is his solution? Does memory always operate thus ? Re- 
 mark ? Are not other powers, besides conception and perception, in the 
 service of memory ? Remarks ? What is said, secondly, of the operations 
 of memory ? How does Stewart attempt to explain the difficulties of his 
 theory ? What is said in reply ? Illustration ? Apology for the above 
 strictures ? Have brutes memory ? What might be difficult to show ? 
 Examples of brute memory ? Into what have some attempted to resolve 
 all these * Reply ? What is said of the universality of memory ? Re- 
 marks ? What is said of events of which we have read ? Are there ine- 
 qualities of memory ? In what do they mainly consist ? Illustrate. First 
 cause affecting memory ? Remarks ? Second cause ? Give examples. 
 What is said of attention ? Illustration ? Third source ? What is called 
 philosophical memory? Give the example. Advantage of such helps? 
 Fourth source ? What is said of all men ? What is the chief difference 
 between them ? What are circumstantial memories ? What is said of the 
 term ? Give the example. Fifth source ? How explained ? Examples ? 
 Sixth source? What have all observed? Difference as to the things 
 remembered ? To what is the failure of memory in old age owing ? 
 What have some philosophers supposed ? Reply ? Seventh source ? 
 Remarks ? What is said of the characteristics of a good memory ? 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 MEMORY CONTINUED. 
 
 CULTURE OF MEMORY, 
 
 Special and direct efforts to strengthen the memory are 
 of little value. Like all the other mental powers, it is 
 strengthened by being appropriately exercised upon its 
 appropriate objects. All artificial rules, all machinery, all 
 exercises of memory, for the express purpose of strengthen- 
 ing it, are rather injurious than beneficial. They place the 
 mind in a false position. If we suitably apply our mental 
 powers to their appropriate objects, they will grow with 
 sufficient rapidity and in due proportion. 
 
 EARLY CULTURE OF MEMORY. 
 
 The first object in childhood, is, to direct the attention 
 to things which ought to be remembered, — things of future 
 value. Childhood is the age to learn spelling and reading ; 
 to learn to associate letters and words with the sounds they 
 represent. Not only are the organs of speech then most 
 flexible, but the mind is best qualified to operate in that 
 small and circumstantial way, by which letter after letter 
 and word after word becomes forever associated with its 
 sound. 
 
 At the same age, much that is of prospective value may 
 be committed to memory, although the mind is not yet capa- 
 ble of fully understanding it. Some dispute this, and con- 
 
MEMORY. 229 
 
 tend that children should learn nothing but what they under- 
 stand. But the laws of mental progress are against this 
 theory, and facts condemn it. Memory is developed before 
 the reasoning power, that she may lay up materials for it 
 to work" upon when it comes into service. 
 
 Those early lessons, those grammatical rules, those por- 
 tions of the Sacred Scriptures, those hymns, those maxims 
 of wisdom, those details of geography, chronology, arithme- 
 tic, committed to memory before we were able fully to 
 understand their meaning, we find of great and ever growing 
 value as we advance in life. The attention of childhood 
 should also be called to the most important facts in nature. 
 Some of the first lessons in natural history, botany, geology, 
 ornithology, serve to form a taste for these studies, and to 
 lay the foundation for future success in them. And one 
 thing is certain, — if childhood does not learn these things, 
 it will learn something else. Memory will work, to store 
 the mind with something, either valuable or useless. 
 
 SUBSEQUENT CULTURE OF MEMORY. 
 
 As the mind matures, memory should take a more system- 
 atic and philosophical course. Nature suggests this; for 
 now the reasoning powers come into alliance with memory, 
 to guide her associations and direct her course. She has 
 hitherto dealt mostly with details ; she is now to remember 
 in groups and classes, and by more remote associations. If 
 she could once better recall the numerous pretty flowers 
 seen in a ramble, she can now better recall the several 
 genera and species to which they belong, and their scientific 
 relation to the great family of which they are members. 
 Hitherto she has been mostly conversant with words and 
 signs ; she has now to do with the realities signified. If 
 she could once more easily learn to repeat a chapter, she 
 can now more easily learn to recall its meaning. She is 
 perpetually working her way beneath the surface, and in 
 every direction, whither philosophical associations conduct 
 her. 
 
 20 
 
230 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Such is the course, where memory is rightly cultivated ; 
 and this makes the difference between being always a child, 
 and ascending from that state to intellectual manhood. 
 Thus the mind not only advances broadly in knowledge, in- 
 stead of bounding over a single track, but she puts- all her 
 knowledge on duty, to trace out new relations, and to discover 
 for it new uses. The growth of the mind in valuable knowl- 
 edge, depends not so much on the number of new individual 
 facts acquired and remembered, as on the number, extent, 
 and value, of their perceived relations.* 
 
 The failure of memory in regard to details, as age ad- 
 vances, may on the whole be regarded as a blessing ; it 
 harmonizes with the laws of mental growth, and seems a 
 necessary condition of those more philosophic and compre- 
 hensive modes of thinking, which characterize maturity of 
 intellect. 
 
 CONFIRMING^ THE MEMORY. 
 
 Still, a vast store of details, as well as of classes of facts, 
 must be at command through life, or the judgment will 
 suffer ; since a sound judgment is exercised in view of facts. 
 But if childhood and youth have taken the course above 
 indicated, little difficulty will be realized in permanently 
 securing whatever needs to be remembered. The lessons 
 that childhood has imprinted a thousand times, will never be 
 fully effaced ; what is subsequently acquired would be more 
 easily^ forgotten, but for those habits of philosophical arrange- 
 ment" to which we have adverted. At the same time, fre- 
 quent recalling at this age, should take the place of frequent 
 repeating in childhood. 
 
 * Maclaurin justly remarks, " New knowledge does not consist so much 
 in our having access to a new object, as in comparing it with others 
 already known, observing its relations to them, or discerning what it has 
 in common with them, and wherein their disparity consists ; and therefore 
 our knowledge is vastly greater than the sum of what all its objects sepa- 
 rately could afford ; and when a new object comes within our reach, the 
 addition to our knowledge is greater, the more we already know ; so that 
 it increases, not as the new objects increase, but in a much higher propor- 
 tion." Conclusion of " Views of Newton's Discoveries" See also /Stewart's 
 Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 240. 
 
MEMORY. 231 
 
 The rules here to be observed are: First. Give the 
 closest possible attention to what you would remember; 
 secondly, reduce it to system, and fasten it in the mind by 
 as many philosophical associations as possible ; thirdly, fre- 
 quently recall it, and reflect upon it. What is thus learned 
 will never be forgotten. Whether it be history, language, 
 science, law, theology, or any thing else, the mind will be 
 able to recall and use it, so long as reason is on the throne. 
 By this means, the judge on the bench, at the age of sixty- 
 five, may give as sound judgment, in view of the facts in 
 law studied at an early age, as at any previous period. 
 
 The importance of reducing to system, and of accurately 
 classifying what we learn, cannot be too much urged. This 
 well done, saves the necessity of much recalling. The mind 
 can hardly help remembering what is thus framed into it, 
 and is made, as it were, part and parcel of its own being. 
 The mechanic, who has always been accustomed to have a 
 place for every thing and every thing in its place, will 
 always find his tools at command. So the student, in every 
 calling and profession, by systematic arrangement of his 
 materials of thought, will be able at any time to call them 
 into service. 
 
 COMMITTING TO PAPER. 
 
 He who would have both a ready and retentive memory, 
 should rely as little as possible upon the pen. Memory 
 loves to be trusted, and will pay large interest on what she 
 receives. The practice of taking notes on the spot, can 
 hardly fail to weaken her powers. It is taking her work 
 out of her hands. But there is a limit, beyond which she 
 cannot go, without assistance. At this limit, the pen may 
 come to aid her. Notes of a sermon, for instance, should 
 not be taken at church ; but after returning home, it is well 
 to write down the heads and most important thoughts in 
 connection with them. This will serve to imprint them 
 more deeply on the mind. 
 
 So in studying history. After reading and reflecting 
 upon the contents of a volume, it is well to write out, from 
 
232 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 memory, a synopsis of its contents. This synopsis may be 
 subsequently used to assist the mind in recalling the historic 
 facts.* 
 
 There are other cases in which the pen must be used, or 
 the memory will be over-tasked. In an interview with the 
 late Noah Webster, the distinguished lexicographer, I asked 
 him how much reliance he placed upon his memory in regard 
 to the origin and the etymological and current import of 
 words. He replied, " None at all; I rely wholly on the 
 pen." In a case where so many particulars must be noted 
 with exactness, entire reliance on memory is demanding of 
 her too much. Dr. Webster complained, however, that he 
 had a bad memory. The reader will perceive that this is 
 accounted for, by what has been said above. His necessary 
 reliance on the pen, as a lexicographer, for a long series of 
 years, would unavoidably render it difficult to retain any 
 thing without that aid. 
 
 ARTIFICIAL MEMORY. 
 
 Artificial memory is secured by combining things easily 
 remembered, with those not easily remembered. In this 
 way, we recall the latter by the aid of the former. Sup- 
 pose we wish to remember a man's name. Standing apart 
 from all associations, it is not easily retained. But if it 
 happen to be the name of some person, place, or object, with 
 which we are acquainted, association enables us to remem- 
 ber it with ease. Or suppose we wish to remember a date. 
 If we can associate it with some other date, or with some 
 name familiar to us, if the association holds firm, the date 
 is remembered. These, however, are the simple artifices, 
 and do not differ much from the ordinary associations. 
 
 Systems of more artificial memory, involving considerable 
 machinery, have been invented by Mr. Gray, of Europe, 
 
 * The writer went through Rollin's Ancient History in this way, during 
 a college vacation, and no portion of his reading in history has been more 
 accurately remembered. The same course was subsequently taken with 
 Hume's History of England, and is recommended to all students. 
 
MEMORY. 233 
 
 and Mr. Johnson, of this country. They are called Memo- 
 ria Technica, and have found considerable favor. Several 
 distinguished men have used them, as they inform us, to 
 advantage.* But whetheflrthe effect upon the mind, of 
 training it to such strange and artificial associations, is on 
 the whole beneficial, is with some reason doubted. Some 
 minds have a propensity to strange, unnatural, ridiculous 
 combinations. It is questionable how far this should be 
 indulged. 
 
 It has been remarked above, that system and order aid 
 memory. Sometimes the very opposite, by its extreme 
 oddity, has the same effect. Whatever strikes the mind 
 forcibly, even though it be the novelty of confusion itself, 
 may help us to remember. In illustration of the importance 
 of order to aid the memory, Prof. Upham states the follow- 
 ing fact : — "A person was one day boasting, in the pre- 
 sence of Foote the comedian, of the wonderful facility with 
 which he could commit any thing to memory, when the 
 modern Aristophanes said he would write down a dozen 
 lines in prose which he could not commit to memory in as 
 many minutes. The man of great memory accepted the 
 challenge ; a wager was laid, and Foote produced the fol- 
 lowing. " So she went into the garden, to cut a cabbage- 
 leaf to make an apple-pie ; and at the same time a great 
 she-bear coming up the street, pops its head into the shop. 
 What, no soap ? So he died, and she very imprudently 
 married the barber ; and there were present the Picininnies, 
 and the Joblillies, and the Gargulies, and the grand Pany- 
 andrum himself, with the little round button at the top ; 
 and they all fell to playing catch as catch can, till the gun- 
 powder ran out of the heels of their boots." Mr. Upham 
 remarks, — " The story adds, that Foote won the wager. 
 And it is very evident that statements of this description, 
 utterly disregarding the order of nature and events, must 
 defy, if carried to any great length, the strongest memory. "f 
 To test this, I put some of the young ladies of my school on 
 
 * Mr. Johnson exercised a class in his system, in a school of young 
 ladies in Boston under my charge, and the examination, in the judgment 
 of competent gentlemen, demonstrated the success of his system. 
 
 t Upham's Philosophy, p. 179. 
 
 20* 
 
234 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 trial, and in less than ten minutes, two of them repeated the 
 whole, verbatim ; thus beating " the man of great memory " 
 himself, and proving the sayin^that there are points where 
 extremes meet. 
 
 RELATION OF MEMORY TO RELIGION. 
 
 The relation of memory to the Christian religion, although 
 of the highest importance, is too obvious to require much 
 notice. It was by virtue of this, that Christianity itself was 
 handed down to us ; it is by virtue of this, that all our past 
 observation and experience of its benign influences, are now 
 available ; it will in eternity be by virtue of the same, that 
 the deeds of the present life will send down their record 
 through those ceaseless ages. 
 
 Memory is a ground of belief, not less imperative than 
 the absolute knowledge of present realities. Indeed, in the 
 strictest sense, all knowledge depends upon it ; for the pre- 
 sent is but a point, and all behind it depends on memory. 
 Nor, if the memory be good, does it matter whether the 
 remembered event took place a week, a year, or five years 
 before. Criminals are condemned and executed, on testi- 
 mony running back ten and even twenty years, provided 
 the case is clear. And when we consider that the sacred 
 historians wrote of things in which they were deeply inter- 
 ested, and under the influence of an inspiration which was 
 vouchsafed to " bring all things to their remembrance," we 
 ought to repose the same confidence in their narrations, pro- 
 vided they were honest and competent men, as in the sub- 
 jects of our personal knowledge. 
 
 It is memory, also, that brings to us our own history, as 
 individual subjects of this gracious religion. Our past sins, 
 conflicts, victories, hopes, repentings, joys, promises — all 
 that renders the past a means of guidance and impulse in 
 our future course towards the " prize of our high calling," 
 depends on memory. " Thou shalt remember all the way 
 in which the Lord thy God led thee these forty years in 
 the wilderness, to prove what is in thy heart, whether thou 
 wilt keep his commandments." 
 
MEMORY. 235 
 
 Memory, also, -will connect time -with eternity ; being 
 one of the constitutional powers of the soul, any question of 
 its eternal duration cannot be philosophically raised. The 
 immortality of the soul implies the immortality of its essen- 
 tial attributes. Take away memory, and the soul is no 
 longer a rational being. If memory is made up of percep- 
 tion and conception, as some think, then, so long as the soul 
 can perceive and conceive, she can remember ; if it be an 
 ultimate constitutional power, as I incline to think it is, it 
 holds a place with the other constitutional powers of the soul, 
 and will perish only with them and with the soul itself. If 
 the question be, How long shall we remember ? — the an- 
 swer naturally is, so long as we have the power, — which 
 brings us to the same point. If the question be, How much 
 shall we remember? — there may be ground of doubt. It 
 does not seem to be the province of philosophy to settle this 
 point. 
 
 In the light of Christianity, we are led to conclude, that 
 we shall in eternity remember all the deeds and events of 
 this life, having a moral bearing. The fact that we seem 
 now to have forgotten many of our right or wrong actions, 
 does not militate against this conclusion ; for there is a 
 mighty power in pressing emergencies, especially in moments 
 of alarm, to lift the veil of oblivion and bring up long forgot- 
 ten deeds. At such moments, events of by-gone years have 
 rushed with lightning- wing upon the mind. In this view, 
 past forgotten deeds have been compared to letters written 
 with sympathetic ink upon a sheet of white paper ; they are 
 not seen, until the paper is held to the fire, and that potent 
 agent brings the colors out. We have reason to believe, 
 that the awful scenes of the judgment-day will not fail to 
 put memory on duty, and bid her call up the entire record 
 of our moral doings in this life. " Son, remember," are 
 words once addressed to a spirit from this world in eternity. 
 Thus philosophy and Christianity combine to admonish us, 
 to do nothing which ive could ivish to forget, and to fill up 
 life ivith as many as possible of those deeds which it will 
 
 BE OUR ETERNAL JOY TO REMEMBER. 
 
236 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XX. 
 
 What is said of the culture of memory ? What is the first object in 
 childhood 1 Eemarks ? What is said of committing to memory things 
 of prospective value ? What do some contend ? Reply ? Particulars ? 
 What should memory do as the mind matures ? Remarks ? What is the 
 course of the mind, when rightly cultivated ? What is said of the failure 
 of memory in regard to details ? Remarks on confirming the memory? 
 First rule? Second? Third? What is said of the importance of system, 
 &c. ? Of committing to paper ? Instance ? Studying history ? Noah 
 Webster ? What is said of artificial memory ? What of the opposite of 
 order ? Instance ? What is said of the relation of memory to religion ? 
 Of memory as a ground of belief? Illustrate. Of memory as related to 
 our own history ? As connecting time with eternity ? In the light of 
 Christianity, what are we led to conclude ? Remarks ? What have we 
 reason to believe ? What do philosophy and Christianity combine to 
 admonish us ? 
 
PART III. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 DISTINGUISHING POWERS OF THE HUMAN 
 INTELLECT. 
 
 Among the pretending illuminators of mankind, is a class 
 of speculating philosophers, referred to in preceding pages, 
 ■who tell us there is no difference, in kind, between the intel- 
 lect of man and that of a brute. They maintain that the 
 difference is merely in degree, not in hind; and in the 
 way of illustration they inform us, that the disparity is great- 
 er between the intellect of a lobster and that of a horse, than 
 between the intellect of a horse and that of a man. How 
 they have been enabled to take the precise gauge and dimen- 
 sions of the lobster's intellect, and to demonstrate the points 
 of distinction between it and that of the horse, they have not 
 told us ; but by denying all difference in kind, and main- 
 taining only a chain of degrees, running from the lowest 
 order of sentient creatures up to man, they have not wanted 
 zeal in attempting to show, that man is not the fallen image 
 of God, but the exalted image of a lobster. 
 
 CHAIN OF DEGREES. 
 
 There is indeed a chain of degrees. Nature seems to 
 avoid, so far as possible, violent transitions. The passages 
 
238 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 from the mineral to the vegetable, from the vegetable to the 
 animal, from the animal to the rational,* are made as gently 
 as the case admits. But then the passages are really 
 made. The vegetable is more than the mineral, the animal 
 is more than the vegetable, and a rational mind is more than 
 an animal. Nor, in the regular course of nature, are there 
 any intervening non-descripts between the great kingdoms 
 and classes of being. Where any thing like these occurs, 
 it is the result of some violation of nature's laws ; an acci- 
 dent, which soon vanishes. Such apparent caprices are 
 no more to be cited as illustrations of the steady and undevi- 
 ating course of nature, than the accidental ripples on the 
 surface of a river, of the course of the stream. The specu- 
 lations of philosophers, drawn from supposed examples of 
 hybridous life, are thoroughly unphilosophical, and betray as 
 much ignorance of physiology, as of the true principles of 
 inductive logic, f 
 
 * " The simplest combination of animal life, where sensation first mani- 
 fests itself in matter, is found in miues, where, ' unmolested by winds, or 
 changing temperature, infusoria or molds covers the damp wall.' The 
 proper element of infusoria, or mold, is albumen which they receive from 
 the mineral body to which they adhere ; the mineral being the matrix of 
 the mold. Its delicate tissue is composed chiefly of nitre, eighty-five per 
 cent, of which is oxygen ; it has a feeble circulation, with little or no sen- 
 sation." — " Sensation, circulation, and voluntary motion, are the second 
 simplest combination of sensation with matter." Sensational Physiology — 
 Laws of Causation, p. 102. 
 
 t " Experiments have rendered it certain, that hybridity in animals results 
 from the absence of a proper degree of sensible heat. The mule that haa 
 hitherto been regarded as a hybrid, is so only from accidental circum- 
 stances. Prevost and Dumas, in repeating the experiments of Lewen- 
 hoeck, have discovered the hybridity of mules in northern climates to be 
 caused by the absence of spermatic animalcules ; while these being present 
 in the mules of hot climates, explain the phenomena of reproduction." 
 In this example, the law defines its degrees so clearly, as to give us all the 
 particulars — namely, that in northern climates, sensation is unfelt in the 
 spermatic vessels by the hybrid, and reproduction is impossible ; whereas 
 a hot climate, in establishing the necessary degree of heat, produces the 
 necessary supply of circulating fluid, whereby sensation in the spermatic 
 vessels of the hybrid is developed, and the animal resumes its place in the 
 laws of causation, by becoming reproductive. Thus I have bridged over 
 the chasm that has hitherto been leaped, and connected mineral, vegetable, 
 and animal life, by the chain of causation." Ibid. — Sensational Physiology, 
 p. 104. 
 
DISTINGUISHING POWERS OF THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 239 
 
 WHEREIN- MEN AND BRUTES ARE ALIKE. 
 
 In respect to animal life, man commences, in many res- 
 pects, as low as the brute, and even lower. No brute ani- 
 mals at birth, and for months after, are as helpless as human 
 infancy, or certainly not more so. It has been well re- 
 marked, that man steps below brutes at his origin, as if to 
 prepare for the great leap with which he is to pass them. We 
 have followed man with the brute through the various sensa- 
 tions, which they hold in common ; and have also indicated 
 those powers in man, of which the brute seems, in some de- 
 gree, to participate. We have seen, however, that these 
 powers are in man associated with other powers, lifting them 
 into a sphere of activity immeasurably higher than ever 
 falls to the range of brute intellect. We are in subse- 
 quent pages to contemplate those other, those distinguishing 
 powers. 
 
 Our knowledge of brute mind is mostly negative. I pro- 
 pose to show, that there are certain powers of the human 
 intellect, demonstrable by experience and observation, of 
 which we have not a shadow of evidence that they pertain to 
 brute intellect ; and that they differ from every development 
 of brute mind, not only in degree, but in kind. 
 
 THE DOMINION OF MAN. 
 
 There was science as well as poetry in what the royal 
 minstrel flung from his harp, when he sung of man : " Thou 
 hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast 
 crowned him with glory and honor ; thou hast made him to 
 have dominion over all the works of thy hands ; thou hast 
 put all things under him." The Septuagint reads, Thou 
 hast made him a little lower than Elohem, — that is, a little 
 lower than God, or as God in miniature. And how like his 
 Creator, is man, in his dominion over the world ! Over all 
 these vast mineral, vegetable, animal kingdoms, he holds 
 lordly dominion ; over them all, he has such power and 
 control, that there is no imaginable form of strength, utility, 
 
240 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 or beauty, to which he cannot subdue the mountain rocks 
 no quality or condition grateful to the taste, nutritious to the 
 body, or pleasing to the eye, to which he cannot bring the 
 wild vegetable creation ; and no purpose of convenience, 
 labor, or recreation, to which he cannot make the animal 
 tribes subservient. 
 
 IN WHAT MAN'S POWER OF DOMINION CONSISTS. 
 
 The power of man over the lower creation results partly 
 from his superior physical organization, particularly that of 
 his hand — his most distinctive physical characteristic — but 
 more especially from the superior endowments of his mind, 
 It is not the want of speech, that holds the brute creation in 
 relative abjectness ; for brutes have language, as well as men, 
 and that adequate to express all they know. That it is 
 neither the cunning of the hand, nor the peculiar organs of 
 speech, that distinguish man from the brute, as some affirm, 
 is evident from the fact that a human being without hands, 
 and dumb from his birth, has developed all the distinguish- 
 ing properties of the human intellect. 
 
 If we speak of physical strength, what is the power of 
 man compared with those vast mountains of rock, which sink 
 to plains before him, — compared with those huge structures 
 and massive columns of architecture, which tower under his 
 little hands to the skies ? — What is the puny arm of man, 
 compared with the mighty forests, the wildernesses of stately 
 cedars and majestic oaks, which recede from his presence, 
 and by his magic touch give place to smiling and verdant 
 fields ? — What but a feeble speck is man, on the great 
 ocean, whose proud swelling waves, angry billows, and 
 furious tempests, he fearlessly encounters? What is the 
 strength of man, compared with that of the ox, the horse, 
 the elephant, which he so readily subjects to the yoke of his 
 dominion ? 
 
 How then is man enabled to maintain this dominion over 
 the world ? The only philosophical answer is, by the supe- 
 rior powers of his mind. It is because he knows how. By 
 virtue of superior intellectual endowments, he is enabled to 
 
DISTINGUISHING POWERS OF THE HUMAN INTELLECT. 241 
 
 apprehend means of appropriating all the laws and powers of 
 nature to his use, thus making them to become, as it were, 
 his own sinews and muscles, guided by his wisdom, and 
 obedient to his will. 
 
 LIKENESS OF THE HUMAN TO THE DIVINE INTELLECT. 
 
 Let us notice, in this respect, the striking resemblance of 
 the human mind to That, in whose image* it was created. 
 When we look upon the four great kingdoms of nature, — 
 the mineral, the vegetable, the animal, the mental, — upon 
 the globe itself, which we inhabit, and the shining worlds 
 around us ; upon the boundless varieties of created beauty 
 in the plants, the flowers, the trees of the forest ; upon the 
 numberless surpassing wonders of animal organization ; upon 
 the more wonderful creation and endowments of human intel- 
 lect ; and finally, upon the most sublime and glorious of all 
 objects in creation; the moral government divinely estab- 
 lished and maintained over the universe ; and then when 
 we consider that all this was conceived, planned, accom- 
 plished, by the mind of God, we are compelled to exclaim, 
 How amazing the power of that mind ! 
 
 And in addition to the inherent powers of his personal 
 mind, he employs all his works as instruments of his will. He 
 makes certain things means of accomplishing others, and 
 these again means of accomplishing others ; the number ever 
 rising in an infinite progression. Thus all matter, all created 
 beings, all the laws and operations of nature, from motes to 
 worlds, and from worlds to systems of worlds, become as 
 it were his own bones and sinews, by which he executes the 
 lofty and all-embracing purposes of his mind. Hence, they 
 are variously termed his instruments, his vehicles, his minis- 
 tering agents. In the bold and beautiful figure of the sa- 
 cred writers, he makes the forked lightnings his arrows, the 
 clouds his chariots, and the winds his angels. 
 
 * " And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and 
 let them have dominion over thejish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and 
 over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth 
 upon the earth. So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created 
 he him: male and female created he them" Genesis i., 26-27. 
 
 21 
 
242 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Now all this is similar to what man does, on the smaller 
 scale. When we look upon the various fabrics of strength 
 and beauty which clothe our persons ; when we see the dark 
 and gloomy desert giving place to cultivated fields, laughing 
 with golden harvest ; when we behold the magnificent houses, 
 temples, cities, which man has reared ; when our enchanted 
 eyes glance at the fire-sped car, thundering on its iron track, 
 as with lightning-wing ; when we behold an highway for 
 nations thrown across the oceans, and proud ships of mer- 
 chandise and war riding fearlessly forth to all the ports and 
 continents of the globe ; when we see how much science 
 has done, in discovering the amplitude, laws, and operations 
 of nature ; when we see knowledge reduced to language, 
 language to written letters and words, and these to books, 
 by which man makes his thoughts travel the world over, and 
 live and speak through all ages ; when we look upon the 
 vast libraries, which have been made to give utterance to 
 human thoughts ; when we see civil governments, founded 
 on principles of equal justice, established over great nations ; 
 and when we consider that all this is the work of the 
 human intellect, — can we avoid exclaiming, How unlike 
 that of the brute, how like to His, in whose image it is de- 
 clared to have been made, is the intellect of man ! 
 
 The most important of those intellectual powers, which 
 distinguish man from the brute, may be comprehended un- 
 der the following heads, — those of Abstraction, Classi- 
 fication, Induction, Reason, Judgment, Imagination. 
 Brute mind cannot be shown to possess these powers, in any 
 proper sense ; and it will be seen, as we proceed, that it is by 
 the use of these that man, availing himself of the materials 
 furnished by his lower faculties, rises from the mere animal 
 to the rank of a rational and immortal being. 
 
QUESTIONS. 243 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 What is said of a class of speculating philosophers ? Their illustra- 
 tion ? Remarks. What of a chain of degrees ? What of apparent capri- 
 ces ? Wherein are men and animals alike ? With what are the human 
 powers, in distinction from those of the brute, associated? What is our 
 knowledge of brute mind ? What is proposed ? What is said of the do- 
 minion of man 1 In what consists man's power of dominion ? What is 
 said of the want of speech in brutes 1 Of man's physical strength ? How 
 then can he maintain his dominion ? The operations of the divine Mind 
 in the four kingdoms of nature ? In making part of his works means of 
 accomplishing others ? To what is all this similar ? Illustrations ? Un- 
 der what heads may be comprehended the most important of those 
 powers, which distinguish man from the brute ? 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 ABSTRACTION. 
 
 Abstraction implies the power of considering any part 
 or property of an object by itself. Thus, if we take an 
 apple in our hands, we may think of its magnitude, or of its 
 smoothness, or of its mellowness, or of its odor, or of its 
 color, or, if we taste it, of its flavor. Considering any one 
 of these properties apart from the apple itself, is called 
 abstraction. 
 
 Some have confounded abstraction with analysis; but 
 there is some difference between them. Abstraction is the 
 considering of one part or property of an object by itself; 
 analysis is the resolving of the whole object into its elements. 
 Analysis implies more than abstraction. We abstract when 
 we analyze, but we do not always analyze when we abstract. 
 The chemist analyzes when he decomposes water, air, mar- 
 ble, &c, into their simple elements ; he literally abstracts, 
 when he withdraws some one element from the object to 
 which it belongs. 
 
 But we may separate in thought, when we do not mfact; 
 the former is commonly called abstraction, the latter analy- 
 sis. Hence abstraction belongs more properly to mental 
 science ; analysis, to physical. We can in thought separate 
 the length, breadth, thickness, hardness, &c, of a marble 
 slab, from the slab itself; this is abstraction* We can in 
 
 . * It was a theory of the ancient schools, down to the eleventh century, 
 that there were certain universal realities, or "forms of things from eter- 
 nity immersed in matter," to which abstract names arc given. " Such," 
 says Stewart, " appears to have been the prevailing opinion concerning the 
 nature of universals, till the eleventh century, when a new doctrine, or as 
 some authors think, a doctrine borrowed from the school of Zeno, was 
 
ABSTRACTION. 245 
 
 fact separate the elements of that slab — the lime, carbonic 
 acid, &c. — from each other ; this is analysis. The latter 
 term is however, applied, figuratively, to mere mental action. 
 
 IMPORTANCE OF ABSTRACTION. 
 
 Abstraction is at the foundation of all classification , and 
 some merge them into one ; but as they are really distinct, 
 their offices are sufficiently marked and important to justify 
 contemplating them apart. Abstraction is as essential to 
 our reasoning powers, both in morals and mathematics, as 
 to our classification. The direct office of this power is, to 
 enable the mind to derive a multitude of ideas from a single 
 object; ideas applicable not only to other objects of the 
 same kind or species, but to those of every description. 
 Here we begin to see the broad line of distinction between 
 the human and brute intellect.* 
 
 ILLUSTRATION. 
 
 When the brute looks upon an object, he seems to regard 
 it only as a ivhole ; he derives from it, as it were, but a 
 
 proposed by Roscellinus ; and soon after very widely propagated over 
 Europe by the abilities and eloquence of one of his scholars, the celebrated 
 Peter Abelard. According to these philosophers, there are no existences 
 in nature corresponding to general terms, and the objects of our attention 
 in all our general speculations are not ideas, but words. 
 
 " In consequence of this new doctrine, the schoolmen gradually formed 
 themselves into two sects ; one of which attached itself to the opinions of 
 Roscellinus and Abelard, while the other adhered to the principles of 
 Aristotle. Of these sects, the former are known in literary history by the 
 name of Nominalists ; the latter by the name of Realists. It is with the 
 doctrine of the Nominalists, that my own opinion on this subject coin- 
 cides." Stewarfs Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 98. 
 
 * " This power of considering certain qualities or attributes of an object 
 apart from the rest, or, as I would rather choose to call it, the power 
 which the understanding has, of separating the combinations which are 
 present to it, is distinguished by logicians by the name of abstraction. It 
 had been supposed by some philosophers (with what probability I shall 
 not now inquire), to form the characteristical attribute of a rational nature. 
 That it is one of the most important of all our faculties, and very inti- 
 mately connected with the exercise of our reasoning powers, is beyond 
 dispute." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 90. 
 
 21* 
 
246 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 single idea. But man regards it also in its numerous 
 properties Midi elements. Thus, when he looks upon a stone, 
 a tree, or a flower, he not only receives the one idea of that 
 object, as the brute does, but he also gathers from it the 
 abstract ideas of length, breadth, thickness, solidity, color, 
 &c. These abstract ideas, by the aid of other faculties, 
 he can employ in forming conceptions of unseen and distant 
 objects. When he hears an object described, having proper- 
 ties similar to those with which he has thus become familiar, 
 he as readily conceives it, although thousands of miles dis- 
 tant, as though it had just lain directly before his eyes. By 
 examining the properties of the few objects about him, his 
 mind obtains the means of becoming acquainted with the 
 universe at large. Histories, descriptions, paintings, of dis- 
 tant places and objects, present to him these objects with 
 scarcely less exactness than the actual presence of the 
 objects themselves. A description of St. Paul's church in 
 London, or of Mount Vesuvius, or of the Egyptian pyramids, 
 enables the distant artist to draw a picture nearly or quite 
 as true to the original, as though his eyes had actually seen 
 them. 
 
 Thus, while brute intellect is confined to the little spot or 
 the particular objects on which the animal gazes, the human 
 intellect, like that of Him in whose likeness it was made, 
 overleaps the boundaries of physical vision, expatiates 
 abroad, accumulating treasures of ever growing wealth in all 
 parts of creation. While the student's body is living only 
 in one small spot, his mind may be living in distant conti- 
 nents, — now exploring the busy streets of* London, or gazing 
 upon some of the objects of special interest in that great 
 metropolis ; now looking with admiration upon the stupen- 
 dous structure of St. Peter's, in Rome ; now casting a 
 glance of solemn awe upon the pyramids of Egypt ; now 
 indulging its taste with fine relics of Grecian architecture ; 
 and now again, with bolder adventure, travelling amidst the 
 wonders of India and China, or, perhaps, exploring the 
 choral beds of the ocean ; or, ascending the towering moun- 
 tains of the land of the sun, into regions of everlasting win- 
 ter and storm. 
 
 Thus has the human intellect power to appropriate to 
 
ABSTRACTION. 247 
 
 itself all the works of creation, far and near ; it can know, 
 possess, enjoj them ; while, for aught that appears, the 
 intellect of the brute has no part nor lot in any thing, except 
 what lies within the little circle of his bodily vision. 
 
 RELATION OF ABSTRACTION TO MATHEMATICS. 
 
 The whole science of mathematics is one of abstract num- 
 bers and relations. Hence it is eminently dependent on 
 that mental power which we are now considering. Other 
 powers are also called into exercise, more or less, but all 
 depend on these. "We learn most things first in the con- 
 crete. The child has his marbles, his blocks, &c. From 
 these, or any thing else which he happens to play with, he 
 begins to get the notion of length, breadth, thickness ; of 
 roundness, squareness, &c. He also learns to consider his 
 toys as one, two, three ; as few or many. All these ideas 
 he abstracts from the toys themselves, and holds them in 
 his mind as elements of abstract or mathematical science. 
 These abstract ideas are called general, because they apply 
 to all subjects. When a person has once learned to compute 
 and measure, he may apply his computations and measure- 
 ments to objects of every description. But the science of 
 mathematics keeps itself aloof from these objects ; considered 
 in itself, it is a science of pure abstractions. 
 
 RELATION OF ABSTRACTION TO THE PRACTICAL ARTS. 
 
 It is in the exercise of this power that the machinist, the 
 architect, the mason, the carpenter, is enabled to adjust his 
 materials to the relations for which they are severally de- 
 signed. An abstraction, a measurement of what is wanted, 
 is first obtained ; by this the material is wrought and 
 adjusted to its design, so that when the several parts of the 
 machinery, — the house, the ship, or whatever it be, — are 
 brought together, although from various and distant places, 
 they are found to fit each other precisely. Many a compli- 
 cated machine, many a splendid edifice, has been thus 
 
248 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 erected of materials wrought in different parts of the world. 
 The temple of Solomon is said to have been built of mate- 
 rials wrought in the distant mountains, with such an exact 
 application of the abstract principles, that at its erection the 
 sound of the hammer did not break the sacred silence of the 
 holy place. It is truly a beautiful illustration of the mental 
 power we are considering, to behold a vast edifice rising 
 under the workman's hands, every joint, every pin, every 
 mortice, moving into its exact place, as though it had been 
 there before. Indeed, by the application of abstract princi- 
 ples, a more perfect " fit " can often be obtained, than by 
 the actual application of the objects themselves. 
 
 RIGHT USE OF THIS POWER. 
 
 On this point, Mr. Stewart has well remarked, " In a 
 perfect system of education, care should be taken to guard 
 against both extremes, and to unite habits of abstraction 
 with habits of business, in such a manner as to enable men 
 to consider things, either in general or in detail, as the occa- 
 sion may require. Whichever of these habits may happen 
 to gain an undue ascendant over the mind, it will necessarily 
 produce a character limited in its powers, and fitted only for 
 particular exertions. Hence some of the apparent incon- 
 sistencies which we may frequently remark in the intellectual 
 capacities of the same person. One man, from an early 
 indulgence in abstract speculation, possesses a knowledge of 
 general principles, and a talent for general reasoning, united 
 with a fluency and eloquence in the use of general terms, 
 which seem to the vulgar to announce abilities fitted for any 
 given situation in life ; while, in the conduct of the simplest 
 affairs, he exhibits every mark of irresolution and incapacity. 
 Another not only acts with propriety and skill, in circum- 
 stances which require a minute attention to details, but pos- 
 sesses an acuteness of reasoning, and a facility of expression 
 on all subjects, in which nothing but what is particular is 
 involved ; while, on general topics, he is perfectly unable 
 either to reason or to judge." A perfect combination of the 
 two habits — that of dealing in abstract and general princi- 
 
ABSTRACTION. 249 
 
 pies, and that of dealing in details — makes the most perfect 
 education. It bridges the gulph between the learned and 
 the uneducated. " Expert men," says Lord Bacon, " can 
 execute and judge of particulars one by one ; but the gene- 
 ral counsels, and the plots, and the marshalling of affairs, 
 come best from those that are learned.* " 
 
 RELATION OF ABSTRACTION TO RELIGION. 
 
 This distinguishing prerogative allies man to that invisible 
 empire of objects revealed in Christianity. It furnishes his 
 conception and imagination with the materials for embracing 
 other beings, other modes of existence, other and higher 
 interests, than this world affords. He is thus placed in re- 
 lation to the Christian religion. He becomes acquainted 
 with distant objects not only of the present age, but also of 
 ages preceding and ages coming. He becomes both a chron- 
 icler of the past and a prophet of the future. 
 
 The same intellectual power acquaints him with the 
 abstract properties and qualities of mind. When a man 
 contemplates the mental character of a fellow-being, he con- 
 siders not merely that one character as a whole, — he also 
 gathers from it the abstract properties of reason, judgment, 
 memory ; the various qualities of virtue, truth, justice ; of 
 vice, falsehood, dishonesty ; of love, hatred, revenge. By 
 means of these abstractions, so combined as to answer to 
 descriptions of character, he is enabled to form just concep- 
 tions of thousands of men on record, whom he has not seen. 
 He thus becomes, as it were, personally acquainted with 
 Adam, Abraham, Noah, Job, Daniel ; with Cyrus, Alexan- 
 der, Caesar, Hannibal; with Plato, Demosthenes, Cicero, 
 Virgil ; and with all the illustrious dead, whose histories 
 have reached us. 
 
 In the same way he becomes acquainted with that won- 
 derful personage, Jesus Christ. He has never seen him, 
 but he has abstracted, from various sources, something like 
 the mental and moral qualities predicated of him, and, by 
 
 * See Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I, pp. 131, 132. 
 
250 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the aid of imagination, so combines them as to conceive of a 
 being answering to the historic description of him. Thus 
 does Jesus Christ, although never seen by his bodily eye, 
 stand as it were in living form before his mind, the object 
 of his admiration and gratitude. In the same way he be- 
 comes, as it were, acquainted with the angelic beings men- 
 tioned in the Sacred Scriptures, and finally with God him- 
 self. His mind thus gradually ascends, as on the patriarch's 
 ladder, from the cold hard earth on which his body rests, 
 into the warm and glorious realms of heaven. All this is 
 wholly without the range of brute mind. It evidently places 
 man apart from all creatures upon the earth, in relation to 
 other and higher worlds than this. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 What is abstraction ? Illustration ? With what have some confounded 
 abstraction ? State the distinction ? Illustrate. What is said of doing 
 in thought what is not done in fact ? What is abstraction at the founda- 
 tion of ? What is its direct office? Illustrations? State the disparity 
 between the human and brute mind, in this particular. Relation of ab- 
 straction to mathematics ? How do we first learn things ? Illustration ? 
 Relation of abstraction to the practical arts ? Temple of Solomon ? Stew- 
 art's remarks on the right use of this power. To what does this distin- 
 guishing prerogative ally man ? Remarks ? With what does the same 
 intellectual power acquaint him ? Remarks ? The several illustrations ? 
 Where then does this power evidently place man ? 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 CLASSIFICATION. 
 
 Classification implies the power of arranging things 
 into genera and species. Suppose a promiscuous heap of 
 fruit, which it is proposed to classify. We remove all that 
 is of a particular shape and appearance, and place it by 
 itself ; to this heap we give the name apple. We do the 
 same in reference to all the fruit of another shape and 
 appearance, and call it pear ; the same in reference to that 
 of another, and call it peach ; in reference to that of ano- 
 ther, and call it plum; to that of aDother, and call it 
 cherry. We have now arranged the fruit into genera. 
 We have the genus apple, the genus pear, the genus 
 peach, &c. 
 
 SUBDIVISION OF GENERA INTO SPECIES. 
 
 But on examining the apples further, we find that some 
 are sweet and others sour. We divide again, placing the 
 sweet by themselves, and the sour by themselves. Under 
 the genus apple, the sweet and the sour are species. We 
 examine more minutely, and find that the sour apples have 
 various flavors. We select those characterized by peculiar 
 flavors, and place all of like flavors together in separate 
 heaps ; we do the same with the sweet apples. 
 
 If now we consider the sour apples a genus, these subdi 
 visions of them are species ; so also, if the sweet apples be 
 considered a genus, the different sorts of sweet apples under 
 this genus are species. So, as we descend from the general 
 
252 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 to the specific, species become genera ; and as we ascend 
 from the specific to the general, genera become species. 
 We go through a similar process with all the other fruits. 
 
 We have now performed a scientific classification of the 
 previously confused heap. Having done this in reference 
 to the heap before us, we have virtually done it in reference 
 to all such fruits in the world. Hereafter, whenever we see 
 or hear of any such fruits, we know what they are, and where 
 to place them. From these few facts, our minds have learned 
 a lesson wide as the world. But classification does not 
 necessarily include the actual separation and arrangement 
 of the several genera and species ; as in abstraction, we 
 often do mentally what cannot be done actually ; and it is 
 only the mental process with which we are now concerned. 
 
 CLASSIFICATION AN ORIGINAL PRINCIPLE. 
 
 That the power of classification is an original and essential 
 attribute of humanity, is evident from the fact that all men 
 give evidence of possessing it, and that children manifest it 
 prior to instruction* The rudest savage tribes classify the 
 trees, plants, and animals, with which they are conversant; 
 and if we give to the little child a heap of variously shaped 
 and colored beads, we find it immediately engaged in assort- 
 
 * " Un enfant appelle clu nom d'Arbre le premier arbre que nous lui 
 montrons. Un second arbre qu'il voit ensuite lui rapelle la meme idee : 
 il lue donne le meme nom ; de meme a un troisieme, a un quatrieme, et I 
 voila le mot d'Arbre donne d'abord a un individu, qui devient pour lui 
 un nom de classe ou de genre, une idee abstraite qui comprend tous les , 
 arbrcs en general." Abbe de Condillac. 
 
 " The particular cave, whose covering sheltered the savage from the I 
 weather ; the particular tree, whose fruit relieved his hunger ; the particu- 
 lar fountain, whose water allayed his thirst; would first be denominated 
 by the words cave, tree, fountain ; or by whatever other appellation he| 
 might think proper, in^that primitive jargon, to mark them. Afterwards, 
 when the more enlarged experience of this savage had led him to observe, 
 and his necessary occasion obliged him to make mention of other cases I 
 and other trees, and other fountains ; he would naturally bestow uponl 
 each of these new objects, the same name by which he had been accustomedl 
 to express the similar object he was first acquainted with. And thus,! 
 those words, which were originally the proper names of individuals, wouldl 
 each of them insensibly become the common name of a multitude."! 
 Smith's Origin of Language. See Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 89. 
 
CLASSIFICATION. 253 
 
 ing them according to their forms and colors. We see 
 here, as indeed every where else, an adaptation of the 
 human mind to the lessons to be learned. The mind has 
 the constitutional power and propensity to classify ; and 
 classes in nature actually exist. Creation is not a confused 
 jumble. Although no two of any genus or species are ex- 
 actly alike, yet all of each genus and of each species have 
 the distinctive characteristics ivhich determine its family. 
 The lines are drawn with a breadth and clearness, which 
 can never be mistaken. Horses, for instance, are of all 
 imaginable varieties ; yet no horse partakes of the genus 
 elephant, or tiger, or any other animal but a horse. The 
 same is true, in the strictest sense, of all the classes in the 
 mineral, vegetable, animal, and rational kingdoms. The 
 principle of a severe and exact classification runs through 
 them all, indicating the existence of that attribute in the 
 mind of their Creator, which he has implanted in the minds 
 of those whom he has made to study his works. 
 
 INCORRECT CLASSIFICATION. 
 
 Although the propensity to classify is early and univer- 
 sally developed, like all the other mental faculties, it needs 
 instruction. The classifications of untaught minds are 
 sometimes exceedingly erroneous. The error usually con- 
 sists in classing things together whose points of resemblance 
 are deceptive and casual, instead of being real and perma- 
 nent. Thus a child would be likely to arrange glass, crys- 
 tal, diamond, in one class ; being deceived by appearance. 
 Gold, brass, and all modifications of metals of a yellow color, 
 would for the same reason be grouped together. When the 
 education of a person is quite limited, in his attempts to 
 bring every new object within the classes which he has 
 formed, he sometimes places it in very strange company. 
 
 Dagald Stewart refers to a fact illustrative of this, men- 
 tioned by Captain Cook in his account of a small island 
 called Wateeoo, which he visited in sailing from New Zealand 
 to the Friendly Islands. " The inhabitants," says he, " were 
 afraid to come near our cows and horses, nor did they form 
 22 
 
254 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the least conception of their nature. But the sheep and 
 goats did not surpass the limits of their ideas ; for they gave 
 us to understand that they knew them to be birds. It will 
 appear," he adds, " rather incredible, that human ignorance 
 could ever make so strange a mistake, there not being the 
 most distant similitude between a sheep or a goat, and any 
 winged animal. But these people seemed to know nothing 
 of the existence of any other land animals, besides hogs, 
 dogs, and birds. Our sheep and goats, they could see, 
 w«re very different creatures from the first two, and there- 
 fore they inferred that they must belong to the latter class, 
 in which they knew that there is a considerable variety of 
 species." * 
 
 CLASSIFICATION A DISTINGUISHING ATTRIBUTE. 
 
 Brute mind regards objects only as individual things, 
 whereas the human mind contemplates them as representa- 
 tives of vast kingdoms of objects like themselves. Thus, 
 while brute intellect rests upon the single object seen, the 
 human intellect bounds from it to the great class of objects, 
 to which it belongs. So soon as the human mind becomes 
 acquainted with one oak, it is virtually acquainted with all 
 the oaks of that kind upon the face of the earth. The same 
 is true of it in regard to all plants, flowers, grains ; minerals 
 and metals ; beasts, birds, reptiles, fishes. In the same 
 way, it classes the shining hosts of the firmament ; also all 
 the works of human art, fabrics, cities, kingdoms. It thus 
 educes order from confusion; and the universe, to brute 
 mind little else than a mere blank, becomes to the human 
 intellect a lesson easy and delightful to read.f 
 
 * Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I, p. 90. 
 
 t The reader should here guard against two extremes, — that of sup- 
 posing absolute classes, independently of real existences, on the one 
 hand; and that of supposing classification a mere grouping of individuals 
 for the sake of convenience, on the other. There arc real classes in na- 
 ture — classes in the concrete — although classification should proceed on 
 the strict inductive plan. Dugald Stewart, referring to some of the an- 
 cient philosophers, says, "Forgetting that genera and species are mere 
 arbitrary creations which the human mind forms, by withdrawing the 
 
CLASSIFICATION. 255 
 
 It must here be noticed, that while I maintain the neces- 
 sity of an examination of particular objects, as the founda- 
 tion of all human knowledge, I at the same time claim that 
 our knowledge is not restricted to our individual experience, 
 but extends infinitely beyond it ; and this is predicated of 
 man in distinction from the brute. The brute knows one 
 thing at a time, and that one thing goes from his mind as it 
 comes — a solitary, uninstructive fact. But man, in learn- 
 ing that one thing, learns all things of the same genus in 
 the universe, and all these, too, in their relations to other 
 genera and to the universal system. 
 
 PROGRESS OF NATURAL SCIENCE DEPENDS ON CLASSIF 1 " 
 
 CATION. 
 
 The progress of individuals in knowledge, has been seen 
 to depend on the power of classification. It is the same 
 that enables the human race, as such, to bear onward the 
 cause of science, in a course of steady progress, from age 
 to age. The following interesting paragraph from Condor- 
 cet, Sur V Instruction Publique, is too much to our purpose 
 here to be omitted. " To such of my readers, as may be 
 slow in admitting the possibility of this progressive improve- 
 ment in the human race, allow me to state, as an example, 
 the history of that science in which the advances of discovery 
 are the most certain, and in which they may be measured 
 with the greatest precision. Those elementary truths of 
 geometry and of astronomy, which, in India and Egypt, 
 formed an occult science, upon which an ambitious priest- 
 
 attention from the distinguishing qualities of objects, and giving a com- 
 mon name to their resembling qualities, they conceived universals to' be 
 real existences, or (as they expressed it) to be the essences of individuals ; 
 and flattered themselves with the belief that by directing their atten- 
 tion to these essences in the first instance, they might be enabled to pene- 
 trate the secrets of the universe, without submitting to the study of nature 
 in detail." Stewarts Philosophy, Vol L. p. 123. Both this philosopher, 
 and the ancient philosophers whom he rebukes, fail to hit the true mark. 
 " Genera and species are " not " mere arbitrary creations." They exist in 
 nature. But we arrive at the true knowledge of them, not as the Platonists 
 and the Peripatetics supposed, by directing attention to imagined abstract 
 essences, but by studying nature in the detail. 
 
256 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 hood founded its influence, were become, in the times of 
 Archimedes and Hipparchus, the subjects of common educa- 
 tion in the public schools of Greece. In the last century, 
 a few years of study were sufficient for comprehending all 
 that Archimedes and Hipparchus knew ; and, at present, 
 two years employed under an able teacher, carry the student 
 beyond those conclusions, which limited the inquiries of 
 Liebnitz and of Newton. Let any person reflect on these 
 facts ; let him follow the immense chain which connects the 
 inquiries of Euler with those of a priest of Memphis ; let 
 him observe, at each epoch, how genius outstrips the present 
 age, and how it is overtaken by mediocrity in the next ; he 
 will perceive, that nature has furnished us with the means 
 of abridging and facilitating our intellectual labor, and that 
 there is no reason for apprehending that such simplification 
 can ever have an end. He will perceive, that at the mo- 
 ment when a multitude of particular solutions, and of insu- 
 lated facts, begin to distract the attention, and to overcharge 
 the memory, the former gradually lose themselves in one 
 general method, and the latter unite in one general law ; 
 and that these generalizations, continually succeeding one 
 to another, like the successive multiplications of a number 
 by itself, have no other limit, than that infinity which the 
 human faculties are unable to comprehend." : 
 
 MENTAL AND MORAL SCIENCE DEPEND ON CLASSIFICATION. 
 
 It is evident that without the power of classification, we 
 could never take the first step in mental and moral science. 
 If any mental act were to be regarded as an individual by 
 itself, unlike every other mental act, we could come to no 
 understanding of each other's mental phenomena, — we could 
 not even interpret our own. But there are real classes of 
 mental acts, which we all have in common. For instance, 
 what we call acts of memory, and what we call acts of per- 
 ception, have each a character so marked, so peculiar, that 
 we find no difficulty in mutually understanding the same 
 
 * Sec Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 126. 
 
CLASSIFICATION. 257 
 
 name, as applied to all the myriads of the one or of the 
 other, both in ourselves and in all other beings. 
 
 The same is true of our moral affections. Those affec- 
 tions, for instance, to which we give the name love, and 
 those to which we give the name hatred, are each so marked 
 and so peculiar to themselves, that we can easily class them. 
 The term designating all the affections of one of these 
 classes, whether in human or superhuman beings, conveys 
 to our minds a perfectly clear and exact idea. The same 
 may be said of all the moral powers and affections. Hence 
 we are enabled to come to a knowledge of each other's 
 minds ; to systematize our mental operations, and to give 
 and receive instruction. 
 
 Teaching is addressed to certain classes of mental proper- 
 ties and actions, generically the same in all ; so that the 
 teaching adapted to one mind, is essentially adapted to all 
 minds, in the same stage of progress. It is on this princi- 
 ple that text-books are provided for classes of children, em- 
 bracing thousands, and that a book of truly profound and 
 original thought, like Butler's Analogy, adapted to command 
 the homage of the thinking classes of any one age, is adapted 
 to do the same in all ages. 
 
 THE LEARNED PROFESSIONS DEPEND ON CLASSIFICATION. 
 
 The profession of the teacher is involved in what has been 
 already said. It is evident that the medical profession is 
 also wholly dependent on classification. Unless diseases 
 and their remedies could be classified, the whole science of 
 medicine would be reduced to mere empiricism ; not a book 
 could be written, not a single rule of practice instituted, not 
 an examination or an experiment made, of the least practical 
 value. In every individual case, the practitioner must needs 
 begin anew, untaught by science, unadmonished by expe- 
 rience.* 
 
 * "Without such a classification, it would be impossible for us to fix 
 our attention, amidst the multiplicity of particulars _ which the subject 
 presents us, or to arrive at any general principles, which might serve to 
 guide our inquiries in comparing different institutions together. It is for 
 
 22* 
 
258 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The legal and the clerical professions would be involved 
 in the same chaos. Unless the characters and actions of 
 men were classified, and compared with appropriate rules 
 of duty, the bar could neither advocate nor defend ; the 
 bench could neither acquit nor condemn ; the pulpit could 
 administer neither instruction, rebuke, nor encouragement. 
 All these points are too manifest to require elucidation. 
 
 RELATION OF CLASSIFICATION TO RELIGION. 
 
 The relation of this subject to religion, becomes thus very 
 evident. A single man or the men of any one age represent- 
 ing the men of all ages, a book of instruction from God to any 
 individual or to the individuals of any one age, is adapted 
 to all men of all ages. Hence, the Bible, although given 
 to man at different periods, and many generations since, is 
 as perfectly adapted to us of this generation, as it was to 
 the ancients. We all belong to the same genus ; we all 
 have the same classes of mental and moral attributes. " As 
 face answereth to face in water, so the heart of man to man." 
 Taking advantage of this fact, God makes one book of revela- 
 tion answer for all men ; and he makes it our duty to recog- 
 nize the same fact, and receive that revelation as addressed 
 to each one of us. 
 
 The human race being thus regarded as a genus, suscep- 
 tible of one and the same revelation from God, the several 
 characters developed under this revelation are also resolva- 
 ble into distinct classes. There is a class of moral disposi- 
 tions, which we denominate vicious or wicked; there is 
 another class, which we denominate virtuous or holy ; and 
 according as the one or the other has the dominion in men, 
 we call them bad or good men. We thus classify the 
 human race in respect to character. We recognize good or 
 bad children, good or bad husbands and wives, good or bad 
 
 a similar reason, that the speculative farmer reduces the infinite variety 
 of soils to a few general descriptions ; the physician, the infinite variety 
 of bodily constitutions to a few temperaments; and the moralist, the 
 infinite variety of human characters to a few of the ruling principles of 
 action." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 128. 
 
QUESTIONS. 259 
 
 parents, good or bad citizens, good or bad magistrates, and 
 treat them according to their respective characters. 
 
 There are degrees in good and evil ; still, good is 
 good, and evil is evil ; and we find little difficulty in 
 assigning men to their appropriate places in the scale 
 of character. All human governments, from the parental 
 upward, proceed on this principle of classification. It 
 is on the same principle that the Moral Ruler of the 
 universe divides the human race into the generic classes — 
 the righteous and the wicked — and assigns to each appro- 
 priate rewards. Christianity is a system of classification ; 
 it came not only to call sinners to repentance, but to make 
 us " discern between the righteous and the iviclced, between 
 him that serveth Grod and him that serveth him not." 
 
 SUMMARY. 
 
 We thus arrive at the conclusion, that the practical arts 
 of life, the progress of the human race in knowledge, all the 
 learned professions, all human governments, are dependent 
 on this principle of classification ; and not only these, but 
 also the great and sublime science of moral government. 
 The Creator and Ruler of all, has enabled man to unite 
 with himself in classing virtues and vices, in separating good 
 men from bad, as the refiner separates the gold from the 
 dross. As brute intellect has not this power, it is incapable 
 of moral science, and therefore incapable of religion. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 What does classification imply ? Illustration ? The suhdivision of 
 genera into species ? How does it appear that classification is an original 
 principle ? Examples ? What is said of classes in nature ? Illustrations ? 
 Incorrect classifications? Examples in children? Fact by Stewart? 
 How does brute mind regard objects ? How the human ? Illustrations ? 
 
260 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 What caution in the note 1 Stewart's remarks, in the note, on the ancient 
 philosophers, and the subjoined strictures on both him and them ? What 
 will here be noticed ? How does the brute learn ? How man ? What is 
 said of the progress of natural science ? Remarks of Condorcet 1 What 
 could we never do without the power of classification 1 Remarks ? Illus- 
 trations of the same truth in regard to moral affections ? What of teaching 
 and books ? The several professions ? Relation to religion ? How does 
 God take advantage of our all having the same classes of mental and 
 moral attributes ? What are the classes of moral dispositions ? What, 
 in this view, is the mission of Christianity 1 At what conclusion do we 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 INDUCTION. 
 
 It is by the power of induction, that we infer general 
 laws from individual facts. By the term law, however, I 
 designate only an established order of sequence. Applied to 
 natural science, the term is figurative. When, for instance, 
 we speak of the law of falling bodies, we mean only to say, 
 that as a matter of fact, bodies actually do, under given 
 circumstances, always fall thus and so. Beyond the ul- 
 timate fact, science cannot go ; for all true science is 
 founded on facts. In this view, induction is nearly the 
 same with generalization. It differs from classification in 
 this ; — classification respects similarity of properties ; in- 
 duction, an established order of sequence. Stewart and 
 some other philosophers consider abstraction, classification, 
 generalization, and induction, all under one head. The pro- 
 priety of considering them under three distinct heads, will 
 hardly be questioned. Abstraction separates, classification 
 combines and groups, induction establishes the order of 
 events. In the last two, generalization is of course involved ; 
 referring us to general classes and general laws. 
 
 ORIGIN OF OUR RELIEF IN" AN ESTAELISHED ORDER 
 
 OF EVENTS. 
 
 How do we come to believe that events do and will suc- 
 ceed each other in an established order ? Our faith in the 
 constancy of nature's course, all admit, is of infinite impor- 
 tance to us, being essential to our very existence. But 
 respecting its origin, two opinions have been maintained. 
 
262 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The opinion of the German school is, that it is natural 
 to us ; that it is a connate and essential element of our 
 minds. The opinion of the British school is, that it is 
 wholly the fruit of experience ; that we acquire it, as we 
 do all our knowledge, by a repeated dealing ivith facts.* 
 
 The real truth seems to be this : — we have a suscepti- 
 bility of mind to the faith in question ; but the faith itself is 
 the fruit of repeated observation and experience. The first 
 time the child, prior to instruction, sees gunpowder explode, 
 on the application of a spark, he is inclined to expect that 
 the same cause will again produce the same effect ; but 
 he does not feel sure of it. He is disposed to make a 
 second trial. The second trial greatly strengthens his ex- 
 pectation ; a few repetitions dispel all doubt, and he 
 finally settles it in his mind as an established order of 
 sequence, f Whether there is any inherent power in the 
 spark to explode the powder, or whether the application of 
 the spark is the mere occasion on which a higher efficiency 
 is exerted, is a question of speculation which he is not here 
 called to settle: all he is concerned with is the mere fact, 
 that such is the established order. 
 
 THE POWER OF INDUCTION A DISTINGUISHING ATTRIBUTE. 
 
 The brute has memory, by which he is reminded of the 
 place where he fell, or was frightened, or was fed ; he has 
 also a large endowment of instinct, by which he protects 
 
 * Dr. Thomas Brown, however, favors the first theory. He says, " By 
 an original principle of our constitution, we are led, from the mere observa- 
 tion of change, to believe, that, when similar circumstances recur, the 
 changes, which we observed, will also recur in the same order." Philoso- 
 phy, Vol. I., p. G5. 
 
 t "Induction is founded on the belief, that the course of nature is gov- 
 erned by uniform laws, and that things will happen in future, as we have 
 observed them to happen in time past. We can have no proof of a perma- 
 nent connection between any events, or between any two qualities either 
 of body or mind. The only reason for supposing such a connection in any 
 instance is, that we have invariably found certain things to have been con- 
 joined in fact ; and this experience, in many cases, produces a conviction 
 equal to that of demonstration." Elements of Logic, by Levi Hedge, frc, 
 p. 76. 
 
INDUCTION. 263 
 
 himself from danger and provides for his young ; but when 
 he sees an effect, he has no power to recognize the general 
 law by which it occurred. When the human intellect, on 
 the other hand, perceives an effect, it has the power to 
 refer it to a cause, and thence to a general sequence or law 
 of events. 
 
 ILLUSTRATION. 
 
 When Sir Isaac Newton saw an apple fall from a tree, 
 he inferred that there was some cause operating to produce 
 that effect, and inquired whether the same cause, operating 
 in similar circumstances, would not always produce the 
 same effects. He thus came to a knowledge of the general 
 laws, by which all the atoms of our globe, all the substances 
 in the atmosphere, the whole solar system, all the stars of 
 heaven, and, so far as we know, the whole material universe, 
 are governed. What a distinguishing prerogative — what 
 a stupendous power — is that, by which the human intellect, 
 from observing only the falling of an apple, could ascend to 
 the knowledge of that law hy which planets, worlds, suns, 
 and systems, are borne up in space and wheeled through 
 the heavens ! 
 
 VARIOUS PURPOSES OF INDUCTION. 
 
 It appears that this power has as wide a range and as 
 important an use as classification. Without this, the laws 
 of gravity, of mechanical forces, of hydrostatics and pneu- 
 matics ; of sound, light, vision, colors ; electricity and mag- 
 netism, and all the valuable arts founded upon them ; must 
 have been entirely excluded from us. It is by virtue of 
 this, we know that fire will always burn, and so learn to use 
 it accordingly ; that water will always run down an inclined 
 plane, and so construct expensive mills, trusting the law of 
 gravitation to insure their operation ; that light will always 
 move in straight lines, reflected and refracted in a way to 
 cause angles of incidence equal to angles of reflection, and 
 
264 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 so make our windows, our glasses, all our optical instruments, 
 as the law of light demands ; that dry gunpowder, when 
 touched with a spark, will uniformly explode, and so con- 
 struct our fire-arms, go forth to hunt game, venture our lives 
 in the face of wild beasts and assassins, and even march to 
 the battle-field, trusting the unfailing operation of this uni- 
 versal law ; that wood, formed into certain structures, will 
 always float upon water, and so construct ships, and launch 
 our property and our lives upon the ocean; that metals, 
 heated to certain degrees, will invariably fuse, and so build 
 expensive furnaces, and provide other customary means of 
 securing the desired effect ; that a propitious season and 
 fertile soil, with appropriate tilling, will produce a harvest, 
 and so labor in hope for this object. 
 
 RELATION OF INDUCTION TO RELIGION. 
 
 As it is by induction that we learn the general laws of 
 the natural world, and are enabled wisely to regulate our 
 conduct in relation to them, so it is by virtue of the same 
 that we learn the general laws of God's moral government, 
 and are guided in the path of wisdom and duty. We hence 
 learn, that the character which pleased or displeased Jeho- 
 vah — which procured his blessing or his frown — in Pales- 
 tine, Babylon, or Egypt, four thousand years ago, is followed 
 by similar results still, and always will be. 
 
 Hence all history becomes admonitory to us, and the 
 sacred writings especially, having the seal of God upon 
 them, pour a flood of light on our pathway to eternity. In- 
 duction assures us, as positively as it does the astronomer 
 the course of the planets, and the agriculturalist the course 
 of the seasons, that if repentance of sin, faith in the Saviour, 
 devotion of heart and life to God, secured an unspeakable 
 and eternal blessing to apostles and other primitive Chris- 
 tians, they will do the same for us. 
 
INDUCTION. 265 
 
 INDUCTION FURNISHES THE TEST OF WISDOM. 
 
 That conduct is truly wise, which is based upon the known 
 laws of the natural and moral universe. Here then we 
 readily trace the distinction between wisdom and fanaticism. 
 Are those men fanatical, who, having carefully examined 
 the laws of nature, bestow years of labor and sacrifice upon 
 a great and worthy physical object — as, for instance, the 
 construction of an extensive manufacturing establishment, 
 or a railroad — trusting the known laws of nature to secure 
 to them the proposed good ? Were there any serious cause 
 for doubting whether water would continue to flow down- 
 ward, or machinery to obey its impulse ; or whether steam 
 would continue to perform the office of propelling an engine ; 
 such a vast outlay might seem to border on fanaticism. 
 But so long as our confidence in the steadfastness of nature's 
 course remains unshaken, it is wisdom to adapt our plans to 
 it. Are those men then fanatical, who bestow years of labor 
 and sacrifice upon a great moral and Christian object, 
 trusting the known laws of the moral universe to secure to 
 them the expected good in due time ? Viewed only in the 
 light of philosophy, there is sound wisdom in the apostolic 
 injunction, " Be not weary in ivell doing ; for in due time 
 you shall reap, if you faint not" For it is as true in the 
 moral as in the natural world, that " ivhatsoever a man 
 soiveth, that he shall also reap." 
 
 We have only to study the laws of mind and of the moral 
 universe, to be assured that it was the highest wisdom in 
 Moses to prefer to suffer affliction with the people of God 
 rather than enjoy the pleasures of sin for a season ; because 
 he had respect to the recompense of reward — a recompense 
 none the less sure, for being in the distance. Duty and 
 happiness, although they may seem distant, are yet bound 
 together by an indissoluble chain ; and it is just as certain 
 that wickedness, however triumphant at present, will en- 
 counter ultimate defeat, and that righteousness, however 
 oppressed, will eventually triumph, as that the laws of the 
 moral universe cannot fail. 
 23 
 
266 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 A further consideration of this interesting topic would 
 carry us into the department of moral philosophy, which it is 
 not proposed to enter, in the present work. What has been 
 said may suffice to indicate the distinguishing nature of this 
 attribute, and its relation to the Christian religion. 
 
 IMPROVEMENT OF THE POWER OF INDUCTION. 
 
 This power is possessed by men in very unequal degrees, 
 and it is this, certainly not less than any other, that distin- 
 guishes the philosopher from the man of mere details. It 
 imparts a breadth and a penetration of vision, which render 
 man, in one sense, almost omnipresent and prophetic. 
 Hence, as it is susceptible of indefinite improvement, it 
 should have a prominent consideration in the education of 
 all youth. 
 
 Respecting the great importance of properly cultivating 
 our inductive faculty, Dr. Brown makes the following judi- 
 cious remarks : " It is important for us to know ivhat ante- 
 cedents truly precede what consequents ; since we can thus 
 provide for that future, which we are hence enabled to fore- 
 see, and can in a great measure modify, and almost create 
 the future to ourselves, by arranging the objects over which 
 we have command, in such a manner as to form with them 
 the antecedents, which we know to be invariably followed 
 by the consequents desired by us. It is thus we are able 
 to exercise that command over nature, which He, who is its 
 only real Sovereign, has designed, in the magnificence of 
 his bounty, to confer on us, together with the still greater 
 privilege of knowing that Omnipotence to which all our 
 delegated empire is so humbly subordinate. It is a com- 
 mand which can be exercised by us only as beings, who, 
 according to one of the definitions that have been given of 
 man, look both before and behind; or, in the words of 
 Cicero, who join and connect the future with the present, 
 seeing things, not in their progress merely, but in the cir- 
 cumstances that precede them and the circumstances that 
 follow them, and being thus enabled to provide .and arrange 
 
INDUCTION. 267 
 
 whatever is necessary for that life, of which the whole course 
 lies open before us." * 
 
 IMPROVEMENT OF THE INDUCTIVE FACULTY. 
 
 Most of the particular directions for improving the induc- 
 tive faculty, will be given under the head of Reasoning. 
 Indeed, logicians generally include induction with the general 
 subject of reasoning, but in an analysis of the mental facul- 
 ties, they should be, to some extent, considered apart. 
 
 All the directions which I would here give, on this point, 
 may be included under three heads : First, the minds of 
 youth should be deeply impressed with the importance of 
 being trained to habits of sound philosophical induction. 
 One of the greatest of men, Lord Bacon, has assigned to it 
 the very highest rank, both as an instrument for obtaining 
 the knowledge of general truths, and also the rules and 
 maxims for regulating the common business of life. And 
 the illustrious evidence of its value, which he has given to 
 the world, should deeply impress it on all young minds 
 aspiring to eminence. Secondly. The propensity should 
 be early encouraged, of tracing all facts and events both 
 backward to their antecedents and fomoard to their conse- 
 quents. This propensity early indulged, affords one of the 
 brightest indications of future intellectual eminence. It was 
 this, that led Bacon, Newton, La Place, and others like 
 them, to discover so many of the great laws on which the 
 course of nature proceeds. Children should be early trained 
 to look at things, not merely in themselves, but in their 
 causes and effects; and not merely in their proximate 
 causes and effects, but those more and more remote ; and 
 thus, finally, in the light of those great laivs of sequence 
 by vjhich the steady course of nature moves on. 
 
 * Brown's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 68. The passage referred to in Cicero, 
 is the following, " Homo autum, quod rationis est particeps, per quam 
 consequentia cernit, causas rerum videt, carumque progressus et quasi 
 antecessiones non ignorat, similitudines comparat, et rebus prajsentibus 
 adjungit atque annectit futuras, facile to this vitae cursum videt, ad eamque 
 degendam prasparat res necessarias." Cicero de OJficiis, Lib. I., Chap. iv. 
 
268 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Let the child begin with the simplest thing. He sees the 
 green grass shooting up in the spring. What, under God, 
 are the causes ? As he observes, he perceives three 
 things, — the soil, the warmth, the moisture. Remove 
 either of these, and the grass does not grow. Combine 
 these, as in the spring, and the seed or root always shoots 
 upward into the green blade. He observes the same next 
 year, the year following, and thus arrives at the knowledge 
 of a general law — a law running through all time, tie is 
 now a chronicler of the past ; he can tell what has been 
 going on, in this particular, in ages past ; he is also a 
 prophet of the future, — he can tell what ivill be going on, 
 in ages coming. Thousands of years hence, as spring 
 sends its warmth and its showers upon the earth, grass will 
 clothe hills and valleys with its living green. From this 
 simple illustration, the student of nature may easily extend 
 his observations and inductions to things more complicated. 
 Thirdly, early care should be taken to distinguish real 
 causes, or permanent antecedents, from mere accidental cir- 
 cumstances. This marks the distinction between sound and 
 false induction. Some minds are slow to make the distinc- 
 tion ; others make it readily. The following is a good illus- 
 tration of false induction. " Let us suppose that a savage, 
 who, in a particular instance, had found himself relieved of 
 some bodily indisposition by a draught of cold water, is a 
 second time afflicted with a similar disorder, and is desirous 
 to repeat the same remedy. With the limited degree of ex- 
 perience which we have here supposed him to possess, it would 
 be impossible for the acutest philosopher in his situation, to 
 determine, whether the cure was owing to the water which 
 was drank, to the cup in which it was contained, to the 
 fountain from which it was taken, to the particular day of 
 the month, or to the particular age of the moon. In order, 
 therefore, to insure the success of the remedy, he will very 
 naturally and very wisely copy, so far as he can recollect, 
 every circumstance which accompanied the first application 
 of it. He will make use of the same cup, draw the water 
 from the same fountain, hold his body in the same posture, 
 and turn his face in the same direction ; and thus all the 
 accidental circumstances, in which the first experiment was 
 
INDUCTION. 269 
 
 made, will come to be associated equally in his mind with 
 the effect produced." * 
 
 The remedy for such false inductions is to be found in 
 careful and repeated observation ; in separating, one after 
 another, those antecedents whose loss does not prevent .the 
 effect ; and in bringing a general and gradually enlarging 
 experience to bear upon the subject. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 For what are we indebted to the power of induction ? What do we 
 mean by law ? Illustrate. How far can science go ? On what is science 
 founded ? Stewart's classification, and remarks upon it ? What is said 
 of our faith in the constancy of nature's course 1 The two opinions of its 
 origin ? What seems to be the real truth ? How illustrated ? How is 
 induction shown to be a distinguishing attribute 1 Illustration ? Some of 
 the various uses of induction 1 Illustrate its relation to religion. The dis- 
 tinction between wisdom and fanaticism ? How shown 1 Moses ? What 
 is said of duty and happiness ? Of the relative value of induction as distin- 
 guishing the philosopher ? Brown's remarks 1 First direction for im- 
 proving the inductive faculty % Remarks ? Second ? Remarks % The 
 training of the child ? Third ? Remark \ Case supposed ? The remedy 
 for false inductions 1 
 
 * Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 199. 
 
 23* 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 REASON. 
 
 All philosophers agree, that reason is the most distin- 
 guishing and important of the intellectual faculties ; and 
 yet they are much divided in regard to its nature and office. 
 Philosophers of the German school make it in part synony- 
 mous with what I have called intuition. In common dis- 
 course, it denotes essentially the power of distinguishing 
 betiveen truth and falsehood, and of appropriating means to 
 ends. Hence it has usually been considered the guide of 
 man, in distinction from all other faculties. The Kantian 
 philosophy makes a generic distinction between reason and 
 reasoning, considering the former as fixed, the latter as 
 discursive. Reason is transcendent, above and independent 
 of the senses ; while reasoning, in its search for truth, must 
 needs call the senses into service. Regarded as the fixed 
 and permanent eye of the mind, so long as its vision is 
 strictly limited to self-evident truths, it is mere intuition ; 
 when it is presumed to see more, it transcends our philoso- 
 phy- 
 
 DEFINITION OF REASON. 
 
 According to the earlier writers of the British school, 
 reason may be defined, the power of deducing one proposi- 
 tion from another* Thus, if the proposition be laid down, 
 
 * The propositions involving facts or events are brought together in 
 the mind, and their relation determined. Hence Dr. Abercrombie re- 
 marks, " Reason, in the language of intellectual science, appears to be 
 
REASON. 271 
 
 God is just, reason deduces from it, Then he will punish the 
 wicked. From the proposition, God is merciful, reason 
 deduces, Then he will forgive the penitent. To the declara- 
 tion, The plague is raging in the city, reason responds, It is 
 then unsafe to go thither. In all cases, in which we thus 
 deduce one proposition from another, we reason. 
 
 Dr. Beattie gives the following definition, cited in a note 
 by Stewart, which is substantially in accordance with the 
 above. " Reason is used by those who are most accurate 
 in distinguishing, to signify that power of the human mind 
 by which we draw inferences, or by which we are convinced, 
 that a relation belongs to two ideas, on account of our having 
 found that these ideas bear certain relations to other ideas. 
 In a word, it is that faculty which enables us, from relations 
 or ideas that are known, to investigate such as are unknown, 
 and without which we never could proceed in the discovery 
 of truth a single step beyond first principles or intuitive 
 axioms." * 
 
 But it should be remarked, that more modern writers of 
 this school have adopted a metaphysical distinction between 
 reason and reasoning. " In opposition to the high authori- 
 ties of Dr. Johnson and Dr. Beattie," says Dugald Stewart, 
 " I must add, that for many years past, reason has been 
 very seldom used by philosophical writers, or indeed by cor- 
 rect writers of any description, as synonymous with the 
 power of reasoning. To appeal to the light of human reason 
 from the reasonings of the schools, is surely an expression 
 to which no good objection can be made, on the score either 
 of vagueness or of novelty. Nor has the etymological 
 aflinity between these two words the slightest tendency to 
 throw any obscurity on the foregoing expression." 
 
 Stewart even concedes that we might perhaps, on some 
 occasions, do well to substitute the word reason for intuition, 
 
 that process by which we judge correctly of the true and uniform relations 
 of facts, or events, and give to each circumstance its due influence in the 
 deductions." Intellectual Philosophy, p. 138. " Reasoning is a process by 
 which unknown truths are inferred from those, which are already known 
 and admitted." Hedge's Logic, p. 70. 
 
 * Beattie 's Essay on Truth, Part I., Chap. 1. See also Stewart's Philoso- 
 phy, Vol. II., p. 43. 
 
272 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 in its modern enlarged acceptation.* With all deference to 
 Stewart's opinion, there still seem to be conclusive objec- 
 tions to confounding the old distinction of terms ; some , per- 
 haps, which had not fully transpired at the time he wrote. 
 Let us now pass from this point to some remarks upon 
 reasoning. 
 
 PKOPOSITIONS. 
 
 In reasoning, we proceed from propositions to conclu- 
 sions.^ Propositions are usually divided into simple, com- 
 plex, and modal. A simple proposition consists of three single 
 parts, like the following, — Grod is just. Here we perceive 
 three parts, of one word each, — the subject, or that of 
 which something is affirmed ; the predicate, or that which 
 is affirmed of the subject ; and the copula, or that which 
 unites the two parts of the proposition together. 
 
 A complex proposition, is one in which the parts consist 
 of several words ; as, An honest judge will give a just 
 decision. Here the subject is made up of the words, An 
 honest judge ; the predicate of the words, a just decision; 
 and the copula of the words, will give. The proposition 
 would be complex, if the copula had but one word ; as the 
 difference made by two is only in tense. 
 
 A modal proposition, is one in which the copula indicates 
 some doubt or contingency ; as, Men of wealth may do 
 much good. This kind of proposition is indicated by the 
 subjunctive or potential mode. 
 
 Propositions are the materials of all processes of reason- 
 ing. They are not always stated inform, but all sentences 
 in which there is reasoning, may be easily resolved into 
 
 * " It may be fairly questioned, whether the word reason would not, on 
 some occasions, be the best substitute which our language affords for 
 intuition, in that enlarged acceptation which has been given to it of late." 
 Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. II., p. 43. 
 
 {"This process, however, which is commonly called the discursive 
 faculty, is to be distinguished from the simple exercise of reason. It 
 ought to be guided by reason ; that is, by a full view of the real relations 
 of the facts about which it is exercised." Abercrombie's Philosophy, p. 138. 
 
REASON. 273 
 
 them. The j have been compared to the blocks of stone, 
 and reasoning to the process of putting them together, to 
 form an edifice. 
 
 HYPOTHETICAL AND DECLARATIVE PROPOSITIONS. 
 
 Propositions may be either hypotheses, or declarations 
 of facts. This is not essential to the validity of the reason- 
 ing. Even if the propositions be false, the reasoning may be 
 sound; since the reasoning is not responsible for the sound- 
 ness of the materials, but only for the manner of putting 
 them together. Hence the saying of logicians, What is 
 true in reasoning, may be false in fact. If the premises, or 
 propositions assumed, be false, the results of the reasoning 
 must of course be false, but the reasoning itself may be 
 sound. If the premises are indisputable, and the reasoning 
 from them strictly logical, the result is known and infallible 
 truth, — as much so as an axiom. 
 
 PROPOSITIONS NEED NOT BE EORMALLY STATED. 
 
 But it is not necessary that all the propositions in reason- 
 ing be form ally stated ; indeed the less of form, ordinarily, 
 the better. The old Aristotelian logic has given place to a 
 more free and natural method. Men often reason soundly 
 and forcibly, who never studied any logical rules, and who 
 scarcely know that they are reasoning. Ask them to define 
 their propositions, and they do not perhaps know that they 
 have any. I once witnessed a striking proof of this. An 
 uneducated man had addressed a forcible argument to an 
 assembly, on the subject of temperance. Being in some 
 doubt respecting one or two of his positions, I subsequently 
 requested him to re-state to me the proposition on which 
 his main argument depended. He was not aware that there 
 was any proposition in the case. I told him my question 
 had no reference to the soundness of his reasoning, but to 
 his premises. He did not comprehend the import of the 
 term. Although, he had no definite idea of what is meant 
 
 o 
 
274 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 by a proposition or a premise, he was yet a sound and 
 forcible reasoner. 
 
 This is no argument against the study of philosophy and 
 logic ; for the same man, on other occasions, made such 
 ridiculous blunders in his reasoning as to defeat his object. 
 It simply proves, that while the reasoner ought, for personal 
 conviction, to understand the nature of propositions, and 
 know how to put them logically together, he need not make 
 a formal array of them. Those propositions which involve 
 intuitive truths, or are so obvious as to be universally con- 
 ceded, need not be stated at all. They already exist, essen- 
 tially, in the hearer's and reader's mind. To be perpetually 
 attempting to prove what nobody doubts, setting forth formal 
 propositions of self-evident truths, and thus essaying to 
 reason profoundly upon the very surface, is a disgusting 
 exhibition of weakness and pedantry. 
 
 ORDER OF PROPOSITIONS. 
 
 Still, all reasoning, as we have said, is really made up of 
 propositions more or less formal ; and it is evident, from the 
 remarks just made, that their order should be dictated by 
 association and a natural sense of fitness, rather than by 
 any set rules of logic. Such rules help us more to criticise 
 than to reason ; they alone never made an eloquent and 
 forcible reasoner. The general rule, however, should be 
 always observed in reasoning, to begin with the most simple 
 and obvious propositions, and gradually rise from them, by a 
 natural process, to the more involved. This is important to 
 the reasoner himself, as well as to carry conviction to the 
 minds of others. In mathematics, there is no other possible 
 way ; in moral reasoning, there is no other good way. 
 
 It must never be forgotten, that the object in reasoning 
 is, from something assumed as known, to find out what is 
 unknown. Unless, therefore, we start with what is clearly 
 apprehended and granted, we shall grope in darkness all the 
 way, and arrive at only doubt and uncertainty at last. " In 
 applying our reason to the investigation of truth," says Dr. 
 Abercrombie, " in any department of knowledge, we are, in 
 
 mi 
 
REASON. 275 
 
 the first place, to keep in mind that there are certain intui- 
 tive articles of belief which lie at the foundation of all rea- 
 soning. For, in every process of reasoning, we proceed by 
 founding one step upon another which has gone before it ; 
 and when we trace such a process backwards, we must arrive 
 at certain truths which are recognized as fundamental, 
 requiring no proof and admitting of none. These are usu- 
 ally called First Truths. They are not the result of any 
 process of reasoning, but force themselves with a conviction 
 of infallible certainty upon every sound understanding, 
 without regard to its logical habits or powers of induction. 
 The force of them is accordingly felt in an equal degree by 
 all classes of men ; and they are acted upon with absolute 
 confidence in the daily transactions of life." * 
 
 DIFFERENT KINDS OF REASONING. 
 
 Reasoning may be generically divided into two kinds, 
 mathematical and moral. Several earnest philosophers 
 have supposed these ultimately resolvable into one and the 
 same. They imagine that the apparent difference results 
 only from the present imperfect state of language. With 
 this view, Liebnitz proposed to frame a language, which 
 would be to moral reasoning what the mathematical symbols 
 are to mathematical reasoning ; but he died, as some think 
 fortunately for science and for his own reputation, before he 
 accomplished his purpose. 
 
 Without stopping to discuss this point, it is sufficient to 
 say, that, in the present state of philosophy, the division 
 here made is natural and convenient. Moral reasoning may 
 be subdivided into metaphysical, or that which is confined 
 to strictly metaphysical truths ; and moral, more exactly 
 so called, or that which is concerned with strictly moral 
 truths. But as these more or less involve each other, and 
 proceed upon the same general plan, they may be properly 
 considered under the same head. 
 
 * Intellectual Philosophy, p. 145. 
 
276 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 MATHEMATICAL KEASONLNG. 
 
 1. Mathematical reasoning is founded on abstract quanti- 
 ties and relations. These being absolute and universal 
 truths, they afford no possible ground of variation or error. 
 The relation which three bears to ten, for example, is abso- 
 lute and universal. It must forever be precisely the same. 
 But the relation of three actual substances, or events, to 
 ten other actual substances, or events, may vary. 
 
 2. Mathematical reasoning places no reliance on testimony 
 or authority. There is no weighing of probabilities, and noth- 
 ing is taken on the opinion of others. Every reasoner starts 
 from the foundation, and builds with his own intuitions to 
 the summit of his conclusions. 
 
 3. In mathematical reasoning, all the terms are exactly 
 defined and limited. There is no possible ground of misap- 
 prehension. This is one of the particular points at which 
 Liebnitz aimed, in his design to institute an exact vocabulary 
 of moral definitions, answering to the mathematical. 
 
 4. Mathematical reasoning admits no degrees of evidence. 
 A point is absolutely proved, beyond all possible question, 
 or it is not proved at all. No possible room can be left for 
 a doubt. The result of a mathematical demonstration, is 
 what every man in his senses must believe, without a ques- 
 tion. 
 
 5. In mathematical demonstration, we never need to 
 examine but one side. Whatever proposition is proved to be 
 true, its opposite is known to be false, without examina- 
 tion. The alternative is so presented, that the truth or 
 fallacy of the one proposition necessarily involves the fallacy 
 or truth of the other. 
 
 6. Mathematical reasoning proceeds in a single chain of 
 demonstration. This chain, every link of which is an intui- 
 tion, may be indefinitely extended ; and the final result is 
 as certain as the first, and even as certain as the axiom or 
 definition itself from which it proceeds. The length of the 
 chain does not reduce its strength. If the operation be 
 accurate, the result of a problem requiring a million of 
 figures, is as certain as that of one requiring but two. 
 
QUESTIONS. 277 
 
 Such are the most distinguishing characteristics of mathe- 
 matical reasoning. It leaves little room for the exercise of 
 judgment, except in planning the work. It proceeds, main- 
 ly, by direct positive intuitions. Admirable as a mental 
 exercise to train the intellect to severe and exact habits, 
 yet, prosecuted exclusively, it may tend to disqualify the 
 mind for those processes of reasoning in which large demands 
 are made upon the judgment, in weighing probabilities and 
 estimating evidences, which fall below positive certainty. 
 Exclusive mathematicians would be likely to prove very 
 indifferent moral reasoners. 
 
 But it may be well to add, that most pupils are in little 
 danger of injuring their reasoning powers by too much study 
 of mathematics; the danger is, rather, that they will suffer 
 for the want of that severe discipline which these studies 
 afford. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 Opening remark ? The Kantian philosophers ? Remark ? Definition 
 of reason ? Illustrations i What have modern writers of the empirical 
 school adopted ? Stewart's observations ? How do we proceed in reason- 
 ing ? How are propositions divided 1 Illustrations of simple ? Complex ? 
 Modal? Of what are propositions the materials'? Hypothetical and 
 declarative propositions % How may propositions be false and the reason- 
 ing from them be sound ? Must all propositions be formally stated 1 
 Remark and illustration ? What is said of propositions involving intui- 
 tive truths ? What is said respecting order of propositions 1 Object in 
 reasoning ? Into how many hinds is reasoning divided ? What is said 
 of Liebnitz ? On what is mathematical reasoning founded ? Explain. 
 Second peculiarity of mathematical reasoning ? Explain. Third? Re- 
 mark 1 ? Fourth? Explain. Fifth? Sixth? Remarks? What is said 
 of mathematical reasoning, in conclusion ? 
 
 24 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 MORAL REASONING. 
 
 Let us now briefly notice the distinguishing characteris- 
 tics of moral reasoning. 
 
 1. Moral reasoning has, like mathematical, its axioms 
 and definitions, but they cannot ordinarily be so exactly 
 stated. Instead of shutting us up to an absolute necessity, 
 they leave some play for the exercise of the moral in 
 our nature. Let the reader refer to any of the moral axioms 
 laid down under the head of Intuition, and he will readily 
 see the truth of this remark. 
 
 2. Moral reasoning is not concerned with abstractions, 
 but with things in the concrete. Its proof has respect to 
 matters and events as they actually are or have been, instead 
 of those abstract ideas and relations assumed in mathematics. 
 Hence the subjects of moral reasoning are, in their nature, 
 variable and contingent. 
 
 3. In moral reasoning, we are compelled to place more 
 or less reliance on testimony and authority. The due con- 
 sideration of these, makes large demands on our judgment, 
 and our moral dispositions. For the proof respecting the 
 life and work of Jesus Christ, for example, we must depend 
 on testimony, — testimony which a perverse judgment and 
 an evil disposition may reject. 
 
 4. Moral reasoning admits of degrees. Evidence in 
 proof may rise through every stage, from the lowest proba- 
 bility to the highest certainty. Any person may find ample 
 illustration of this in our courts of justice. As this kind of 
 reasoning admits of degrees, it becomes expedient, and often 
 necessary, to examine both sides, in order to obtain a satis- 
 
MORAL REASONING. 279 
 
 factory result. This principle is recognized in all courts of 
 justice. 
 
 5. Moral reasoning does not proceed in a single chain, 
 but is made up of many arguments combined. These argu- 
 ments may sustain some mutual relation, or they may be 
 entirely independent of each other. " Each possesses some 
 weight, and bestows on the conclusion a certain degree of 
 probability ; of all which, accumulated, the credibility of the 
 fact is compounded. Thus, the proof, that the Romans 
 once possessed Great Britain, is made up of a variety of 
 independent arguments ; as, immemorial tradition ; the 
 testimony of historians ; the ruins of Roman buildings, 
 camps, and walls ; Roman coins, inscriptions, and the like. 
 These are independent arguments ; but they all conspire to 
 establish the fact." * 
 
 6. The difficulties attending a course of moral reasoning, 
 are entirely different from those attending a mathematical 
 demonstration. " Those which impede our progress in 
 demonstration, arise from the large number of intermediate 
 steps, and the difficulty of finding suitable media of proof. 
 In moral reasoning the processes are usually short, and the 
 chief obstacles by which we are retarded, arise from the 
 want of exact definitions to our words ; the difficulty of 
 keeping steadily in view the various circumstances on which 
 our judgment should be formed ; and from the prejudices 
 arising from early impressions and associations." f Other 
 difficulties still more serious, connected with the investigation 
 of moral and religious subjects, result from aversion to truth 
 which conflicts with perverse inclinations. Mathematical 
 reasoning encounters no difficulties here ; moral reasoning 
 often encounters them at every step. 
 
 RESULTS OF MORAL REASONING MAY BE CERTAIN. 
 
 Logicians have frequently applied the epithet demonstra- 
 tive, to mathematical reasoning ; and probable, to moral 
 reasoning. The distinction is not happy. A mathematical 
 
 * Hedge's Logic, p. 73. t Hedge's Logic, p. 75. 
 
280 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 demonstration is as truly a reasoning process as a moral ; 
 and a process of moral reasoning may be as convincingly 
 demonstrative as a mathematical. It is by a process of 
 moral reasoning that we are led to the conviction, that Cyrus 
 invaded and took Babylon ; that Hannibal crossed the Alps 
 with his army ; that Julius Caesar invaded Gaul ; and yet 
 no enlightened mind would hesitate to place its assent to 
 these facts by the side of that which it yields to the simplest 
 mathematical demonstration. Precisely in the same light, 
 we must regard the leading historical facts of Christianity. 
 
 WHAT CONSTITUTES A GOOD REASONER. 
 
 There is a vast difference between men in respect to their 
 reasoning powers, and it may be advantageous to notice, 
 more particularly, what constitutes a good reasoner. 
 
 1 . An accurate perception of the relations of things. 
 When we reason, we bring the several propositions under 
 consideration into comparison with each other ; and unless 
 we have a just perception of their relations, our reasoning 
 will of course be unsound. Suppose, for instance, we take 
 the two propositions, Men become intemperate by the use of 
 intoxicating drinks ; Peter uses intoxicating drinks. Now, 
 the proposition which reason will deduce from these two, 
 must depend on the view taken of the relation of the latter 
 to the former. If it be supposed to sustain to it the relation 
 of a minor to a major, the inference is, Peter will become 
 intemperate. This is what logicians call a non sequitur, — 
 an unwarrantable inference. The reasoning is false, because 
 the true relation of the propositions to each other was not 
 perceived. The proposition, that men become intemperate 
 by the use of intoxicating drinks, is not the same as saying 
 that the use of intoxicating drinks always leads to intemper- 
 ance. Hence a comparison of the first two propositions 
 does not warrant the third. Peter may be an exception. 
 Such inaccuracies tend to destroy confidence in a man's 
 reasoning, and render even his sound arguments futile. 
 The relations of things must then be carefully noticed, by 
 all who aspire to become sound and convincing reasoners. 
 
MORAL REASONING. 281 
 
 2. A habit of fixed and patient attention. This is neces- 
 sary, in order to examine the nature of the propositions, to 
 see clearly their relations, and to determine what inferences 
 may be logically deduced. Every step in this process 
 demands careful attention. We cannot arrive at truth by 
 reasoning, as by intuition, with a single flash of the eye ; it 
 can be done only by a protracted and steady direction of 
 the mind to the several points involved. As an encourage- 
 ment to this effort it may be said, that practice will soon 
 render it comparatively easy, and that the- habit is one of 
 the very highest and most valuable of mental attainments. 
 
 3. A mind well stored with knowledge. Especially, 
 whatever has material bearing on the subject at issue, should 
 be at command. " Knowledge is power." This is emphati- 
 cally true in reasoning. A man might as well undertake to 
 build a house without materials, as to frame convincing argu- 
 ments without knowledge. " Only fools can be convinced 
 by fools," is an old proverb, none the less true for its age 
 or roughness. " All reasoning implies a comparison of ideas ; 
 or, more properly, a comparison of propositions, or of facts 
 stated in propositions. Of course, where there is no knowl- 
 edge on any given subject, where there is no accumulation 
 of facts, there can be no possibility of reasoning ; and where 
 the knowledge is much limited, the plausibility and power 
 of the argument will be proportionally diminished." * 
 
 4. An honest love of truth. The habit of arguing on all 
 sides of questions, against our convictions, as well as with 
 them, for the sake of showing skill, or appearing singular, 
 or gaining the dangerous reputation of originality, is ulti- 
 mately destructive of sound reasoning. Many a pupil, of 
 fine promise, has thus fatally perverted his reasoning powers. 
 He who argues in defence of infidelity, for the sake of dis- 
 playing his tact, is very liable to become a victim to his own 
 snares ; and the lawyer, who is ready to espouse every 
 desperate and wicked cause, either for gold or glory, will in 
 the event become a splendid demagogue and a skilful tacti- 
 cian, but a false and dangerous reasoner. No man can 
 
 * Upham's Philosophy, p. 197. 
 
 24* 
 
282 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 form the habit, or at least long retain it, of reasoning 
 soundly on moral subjects, without honesty of purpose, 
 without an eye single to the truth. 
 
 5. A careful exclusion of weak or doubtful arguments. 
 Many persons spoil their reasoning, by accumulating all the 
 arguments which they can collect, whether good, indifferent, 
 or doubtful. The adversary, and even the friend, upon a 
 laudable watch for errors, will almost inevitably detect the 
 weak points, and make them the occasion of rejecting the 
 whole. On a careful revision, the reasoner should exclude 
 every argument that is liable to be overthrown, and let those 
 which are unanswerable stand in their solitary and massive 
 strength. 
 
 6. A modest self -estimation. Due confidence in one's 
 self is an essential element of success in all undertakings, 
 but the danger usually lies in its excess. This is especially 
 true in the matter of reasoning. In nothing are minds of a 
 certain cast more prone to pride themselves, than in their 
 reasoning powers ; and in nothing are they so sure to fail. 
 Having perhaps a richly endowed imagination, a bold tem- 
 perament, a poetic inspiration, a passion for originality, so 
 long as they confine themselves within the limits of their 
 reasoning powers, and rely upon their appropriate strength, 
 they pass for what they truly are — distinguished men in 
 their way. Nobody questions their ability to reason, for 
 they have never exposed it out of the beaten paths ; while 
 the boldness and originality of their imagery and manner, 
 renders the truth powerful in their hands. 
 
 But no sooner does success betray them into an undue 
 self-estimation, than they are emboldened to adventure their 
 reasoning powers upon points to which they are incompetent, 
 and then they fall even below their just level. Such men would 
 be very safe and eminently successful reasoners, did a just 
 estimation of themselves keep them within just limits. How- 
 ever bold and original men may be in the outbursts of their 
 poetry, and in the splendors of their style and manner, in 
 respect to those adventures of reasoning, whose object is to 
 settle great principles of truth, faith, and duty, only the 
 most patient inquiry, the widest search, the most cautious 
 
MORAL REASONING. 283 
 
 prudence, and the most reluctant consent, can safely deviate 
 from the paths on which the maturest wisdom of ages has 
 trodden. 
 
 MATHEMATICAL REASONING AS DISTINGUISHING MEN FROM 
 
 BRUTES. 
 
 The human mind, unlike that of brutes, can conceive of 
 objects as divided into hundreds, thousands, millions of 
 parts, as indefinitely multiplied and extended. Hence the 
 noble science of mathematics. With only ten little charac- 
 ters, man can reckon, calculate, measure, adjust, all the 
 affairs of the great social, political, mercantile, and physical 
 world. This he does, by simply applying the abstract num- 
 bers, increased, diminished, multiplied, involved and evolved, 
 to the various objects in question. To facilitate his progress 
 in the higher calculations, he uses letters and other charac- 
 ters to represent numerical figures — as in algebra and 
 fluxions ; — proceeding thus, he is enabled to measure the 
 ocean, to weigh the mountains, to scale the heights of those 
 dizzy summits on which the human foot never trod ; to belt 
 the globe we inhabit, and determine its relative position and 
 movements in the solar system ; ascending the heavens, he 
 places the sun and all the planetary orbs that surround it 
 in his scale, handling them as very little things, and telling 
 all their courses, distances, revolutions, conjunctions, eclipses, 
 for ages past and ages coming. What a stupendous reach 
 of intellect ! Well may that living and thinking something, 
 which we call the human mind, consider the universe its 
 home and immortality its birthright, although doomed for 
 a season to honor this perishing clay with its presence. 
 
 MORAL REASONING AS DISTINGUISHING MEN FROM BRUTES. 
 
 Brute intellect is wholly occupied with lohysical objects. 
 It seems to have no knowledge of any thing but what is 
 addressed to the bodily senses. The human mind takes a 
 higher and more spiritual range. It performs its humblest 
 
284 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 task when it operates only upon matter. From the vast 
 and glorious kingdom of metaphysical truths, historical facts, 
 and moral sentiments, in which the human mind expatiates 
 and from which it enjoys its richest repast, the intellect of 
 the brute is utterly excluded. The brute is also incapable of 
 appreciating the evidence of facts, as furnished by history 
 and other means. A present or a remembered object, is 
 made sure to him by the present or former testimony of his 
 senses ; beyond this, he is without evidence of the existence 
 of any object or fact whatever. Thus excluded from all 
 knowledge of the beings and events of another world, he is 
 of course incapable of religion. The truths and motives of 
 religion cannot reach him. 
 
 Man, on the contrary, can so appreciate the evidence of 
 distant things, as to be as well assured of them as of the 
 place in which he resides. He may be as fully convinced 
 that there are such places as Mexico, London, and Calcutta, 
 as though he had actually seen them. He may feel as well 
 assured that Lisbon was destroyed by an earthquake, that 
 Brutus slew Caesar, that the Jews crucified Jesus Christ, 
 that Buonaparte was defeated at Waterloo, as if his own eyes 
 had witnessed the events. He is thus enabled to act ration- 
 ally upon the principle of faith in the verities of Christianity. 
 If his evidence of such facts is not of the same kind with 
 that furnished by his physical senses, which he shares with 
 the brute, it is equally as good, and as binding on his prac- 
 tical regard. 
 
 The power of logical argumentation, and of reasoning to 
 sound conclusions respecting what has taken place and what 
 will take place, as the result of existing and forthcoming 
 causes, is perhaps the most lofty and distinguishing preroga- 
 tive of the human intellect. By this we are enabled to form 
 a sound judgment, and to act wisely respecting the future 
 interests of both the present life and the life to come. 
 
 THE HUMAN MIND PROGRESSIVE. 
 
 Brute intellect stands still. Had man been destitute of 
 reason, the world would have been now just what it was at 
 
MORAL REASONING. 285 
 
 the beginning. It would have been only a great wilderness 
 of forests and waters ; the very lowest condition of the most 
 savage tribes, is immeasurably superior to what would have 
 been the condition of our entire race. The brute creation, 
 so far as appears, has no more knowledge now than it had 
 four thousand years ago ; whereas the human mind is con- 
 stantly advancing. It was at first circumscribed within 
 very narrow limits. Its eye embraced only the surface of a 
 few miles of surrounding earth , and of the concave firma- 
 ment. All beyond was in the deep, dark chambers of mys- 
 tery. In almost nothing did the human differ from brute 
 mind, save in its inborn poivers of acquisition. These were 
 the germs of its immortality and pledges of its everlasting 
 growth. Awaking to the consciousness of these, it com- 
 menced its career. It has now penetrated many of the 
 profound mysteries of nature, analyzed its own deathless 
 powers and relations, established governments, founded em- 
 pires, subdued the world by its inventions, explored sciences, 
 soared among the stars ; and was never speeding its way 
 into distant regions of discovery with more rapid wing than 
 at the present moment. 
 
 How well do these facts harmonize with the revelations of 
 Christianity. As a universe of wonders lies before the 
 human mind, so that mind has a boundless existence in which 
 to explore them. It can grow in knowledge forever, and 
 yet never exhaust its treasures. If true to itself, such is its 
 high destiny. It will brighten and ascend forever ; its 
 splendors will eclipse the sun. 
 
 These considerations should serve to awaken in us just 
 convictions of the value of our minds, impress us with the 
 magnitude and solemnity of our responsibilities, and induce 
 us to conduct like men, and not like the irrational brute, 
 that was made only for this world. True to our nature, we 
 should rise to the joy and glory of an endless life. 
 
286 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 What is the first distinguishing characteristic of moral reasoning % 
 Second? Third? Fourth? Fifth? Illustrate. Sixth 1 State the more 
 serious difficulties. May moral reasoning he as conclusive as mathe- 
 matical ? Give examples ? The first quality of a good reason er 1 Re- 
 marks ? Illustration ? Second quality ? Why is this necessary % 
 Remarks 1 Third quality ? Remarks i Fourth quality ? Remarks ? 
 .Fi/M quality "? How shown 1 Sixth quality 1 Observations on this point ? 
 What is said of mathematical reasoning, as distinguishing men from 
 brutes ? As applied to religion ? Of moral reasoning, as distinguish- 
 ing men from brutes 1 What is the most distinguishing prerogative of 
 the human intellect 1 Comparison of men and brutes as to progress? 
 What has the human mind done 1 With what do these facts harmonize ? 
 What should these facts serve to awaken ? 
 
CHAPTER XXVII, 
 
 JUDGMENT. 
 
 Some writers confound judgment with reason. They 
 consider it that faculty by which we compare facts or propo- 
 sitions with each other, and our mental impressions with 
 external objects.* An act of judgment of course implies 
 reason ; we cannot judge without reason, neither can we 
 reason without judgment. But this does not prove them 
 one and the same thing. All our mental powers co-exist in 
 fact ; they are essential elements of one and the same mind ; 
 and many of our mental exercises necessarily imply and 
 involve each other. Still they are distinct exercises, and of 
 course imply the existence of the mental powers adequate to 
 produce them. The only question is, whether that mental 
 act, which we call judgment, is sufficiently peculiar and 
 important to deserve a distinct notice. 
 
 JUDGMENT DISTINGUISHED FROM REASON. 
 
 We have already seen that intuition and reason are the 
 same ; hence, to identify judgment f with reason, is to con- 
 found it with intuition. Now intuition is always true; 
 judgment may he false ; intuition is certain ; judgment may 
 be uncertain. It is proper to speak of good and bad judg- 
 
 * Abercrombie's Intellectual Philosophy, p. 138. 
 
 t The term is sometimes qualified by applying the adjective intuitive. 
 Hence some writers speak of intuitive judgments, as connecting the several 
 links in a chain of mathematical demonstration. We might as well speak 
 of round squares. The links of a chain of mathematical demonstration 
 are connected in our minds by pure intuition. — We do not judge ; we 
 know. 
 
288 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ment ; but to speak of good and bad intuition, is a solecism. 
 Intuition knows ; judgment is a substitute for knowledge. 
 The judge upon the bench has no intuitive knowledge 
 respecting the innocence or guilt of the man under trial ; he 
 merely judges him innocent or guilty, in view of evidence. 
 Had he the knowledge which intuition gives, he would not 
 need to judge. Hence, his judgment is a substitute* for 
 such knowledge. And even if we suppose both to exist in 
 the same mind, in reference to the same things, they are yet 
 distinct, both in their nature and relations.! 
 
 FURTHER REASONS FOR THE DISTINCTION. 
 
 Considering reason as discursive, by substituting the parti- 
 ciple and giving the definition usually attached to reasomw#, 
 we find objections to confounding the terms in question no 
 less serious. Reasoning is a process ; judgment is a decision. 
 Reasoning prepares the ivay for a result; judgment is the 
 result itself. There are indeed separate judgments, pro- 
 nounced on the several facts or evidences, in the course of 
 an investigation, until the final issue becomes a general 
 judgment embracing the whole. Such are the judgments 
 of the civil magistrate on the bench. The judge cannot 
 ordinarily compass the whole question at issue with a single 
 
 * " The faculty which God has given man to supply the want of clear and 
 certain knowledge, in cases where that cannot be had, is judgment, whereby 
 the mind takes its ideas to agree or disagree ; or which is the same, any 
 proposition to be true or false without perceiving any demonstrative evi- 
 dence in the proofs. The mind sometimes exercises this judgment out of 
 necessity, when demonstrative proofs and certain knowledge are not to be 
 had. Judgment is the presuming things to be so, without perceiving it." 
 Locke's Essay, Book IV., Chap, xiv., Sec. iv. 
 
 t " To understanding we apply the epithets strong, vigorous, comprehen- 
 sive, profound. To judgment, those of correct, cool, unprejudiced, impar- 
 tial, solid. It was in this sense that the word seems to have been 
 understood by Pope, in the following couplet : " 
 
 " 'Tis with our judgments as our watches; none 
 Go just alike, yet each believes his own." 
 
 Stewart's Philosophy) Vol. II, p. 17. 
 
 All well; but how absurd to speak of a correct, cool, unprejudiced, impar- 
 tial, solid intuition ; or of our intuitions varying with our watches. 
 
JUDGMENT. 289 
 
 decisive act ; he compares and decides, reasons and judges, 
 at the various stages of the investigation. The character of 
 the witnesses, and the evidences they furnish ; the arguments 
 of the respective advocates ; the different circumstances 
 bearing directly and indirectly upon the case ; are all sever- 
 ally considered, brought into relation to the law, and decided 
 upon, as preparatory to the final judgment that is to em- 
 brace the whole. 
 
 DEFINITION OF JUDGMENT. 
 
 Considered as a mental attribute, judgment may therefore 
 be defined, The 'power of forming a decision in view of facts 
 and evidences. We may conceive of a mind, in which this 
 element might be wholly wanting. It might attend to all 
 the facts and evidences in a given case, compare them with 
 a standard, and yet have no power of judgment, — no ability 
 to come to any decision whatever, in respect to them. 
 Judgment is then a distinct faculty. It is that which, when 
 all the circumstances are brought to bear upon a question at 
 issue, enables us to decide, in view of them, what the truth 
 is, and what ought to be done. 
 
 This is the real meaning of judgment, as understood and 
 applied by the mass of mankind. Nor does it essentially 
 differ from the meaning attached to it by most philosophers 
 and logicians, excepting when they confound it with reason 
 or intuition. "In treatises of logic," says Stewart, '''judg- 
 ment is commonly defined to be an act of the mind, by 
 which one thing is affirmed or denied of another ; a defini- 
 tion which, though not unexceptionable, is, perhaps, less so 
 than most that have been given on similar occasions. Its 
 defect, as Dr. Reid has remarked,* consists in this, — that 
 
 * " The definition commonly given of judgment, by the more ancient 
 writers in logic, was, that it is an act of the mind, whereby one thing is 
 affirmed or denied of another. I believe this is as good a definition of it 
 as can be given." Reed's Philosophy, Vol. III., p. 74. But this excellent 
 author immediately admits, that the affirmation or denial is not essential 
 to judgment, — that " there may be judgment which is not expressed," that 
 ic affirmation and denial are very often the expression of testimony, which 
 
 25 
 
290 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 although it be by affirmation or denial that we express our 
 judgments to others, yet judgment is a solitary act of the 
 mind, to which this affirmation or denial is not essential, and 
 therefore, if the definition be admitted, it must be understood 
 of mental affirmation or denial only ; in which case, we do 
 no more than substitute, instead of the thing defined, ano- 
 ther mode of speaking perfectly synonymous. The definition 
 has, however, notwithstanding this imperfection, the merit 
 of a conciseness and perspicuity, not often to be found in the 
 attempts of logicians to explain our intellectual operations." * 
 
 VIEWS OF LOCKE AND COUSIN. 
 
 It has been remarked that some writers confound judg- 
 ment with other mental faculties. This is doubtless owing 
 to the influence of the German school, in which reason 
 figures very largely, embracing nearly all that we under- 
 stand by intuition and judgment. Locke stands, in this 
 respect, on high, independent ground. Cousin complains 
 of him in the following language. " Locke founds knowl- 
 edge and judgment upon the perception of a relation between 
 two ideas, that is to say, upon comparison ; while in many 
 cases, these relations and the ideas of relation, so far from 
 being the foundation of our judgments and of our cognitions, 
 are, on the contrary, the results of primitive cognitions and 
 judgments referable to the natural power of the mind, which 
 judges and knows in its own proper virtue, basing itself 
 frequently upon a single term, and consequently without 
 comparing two together in order to deduce the ideas of rela- 
 tion." | Here Cousin places in the same category cogni- 
 tions and judgments, which Locke is careful to distinguish. 
 Cognitions do not necessarily involve any comparing. All 
 intuitions are cognitions, and are referable to a " natural 
 power of the mind, which knows in its own proper virtue." 
 
 is a different act of the mind, and ought to be distinguished from judg- 
 ment." — Ibid. This brings us back to our definition above. 
 * Philosophy, Vol. II., p. 18. 
 
 t Elements of Psychology, by Victor Cousin, by Rev. C. S. Henry, 
 D. I)., p. 342. 
 
JUDGMENT. 291 
 
 But judgments, with Locke, are quite another thing. They 
 " supply the want of clear and certain knowledge," or cog- 
 nitions.* 
 
 VIEWS OF EEID. 
 
 Dr. Reid's view of judgment agrees mainly with our 
 definition. He says, " As a judge, after taking the proper 
 evidence, passes sentence in a cause, and that sentence is 
 called his judgment ; so the mind, with regard to whatever 
 is true or false, passes sentence, or determines according to 
 the evidence that appears. Some kinds of evidence leave 
 no room for doubt. Sentence is passed immediately, without 
 seeking or hearing any contrary evidence, because the thing 
 is certain and notorious. t In the other cases, there is room 
 for weighing evidence on both sides before sentence is passed. 
 The analogy between a tribunal of justice and this inward 
 tribunal of the mind, is too obvious to escape the notice of 
 any man who ever appeared before a judge." % Yet this 
 writer unfortunately extends the sphere of judgment to intui- 
 tions, and to justify it, calls such mental acts "judgments of 
 things necessary." " That three times three are nine ; that 
 the whole is greater than a part ; are judgments about things 
 necessary. Our assent to such necessary propositions is nofe 
 grounded upon any operations of sense, of memory, or of con- 
 sciousness, nor does it require their concurrence ; it is unac- 
 companied by any other operation but that of conception, 
 which must accompany all judgment ; we may therefore call 
 this judgment of things necessary, pure judgment."§ This 
 "pure judgment" is what Liebnitz and Kant call "pure 
 reason," and what we have called intuition. Beid, as we 
 have seen, assigns another office to judgment ; why not then 
 let intuition have its own? 
 
 * Locke's Essays, Book IV., Ch. xiv.. Sec. iv. 
 
 t It should be observed that the certainty here, is not that of intuition t 
 but of irresistible evidence. The mind of the judge may be forced to a 
 certain conviction of the prisoner's guilt, not because he has an intuitive 
 perception of his crime, but irresistible evidence of it. 
 
 X Essays, Vol. III., p. 76. 
 
 § Essays, VoL III., p. 78. 
 
292 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 VIEWS OF STEWART. 
 
 But Dugald Stewart not only admits the more enlarged 
 sense of the term, but argues for it. After stating the 
 primitive and appropriate sense of the term, he adds, " When 
 we give our assent to a mathematical axiom ; or when, after 
 perusing the demonstration of a theorem, we assent to the 
 conclusion ; or, in general, when we pronounce concerning 
 the truth or falsity of any proposition, or the probability or 
 improbability of any event, the power by which we are 
 enabled to perceive what is true or is false, probable 
 or improbable, is called by logicians the faculty of judg- 
 ment" " Considered as a technical or scientific term of 
 logic, the practice of our purest and most correct writers 
 sufficiently sanctions the more enlarged sense in which I 
 have explained it ; and if I do not much deceive myself, 
 this use of it will be found more favorable to philosophical 
 distinctness than Mr. Locke's language, which leads to an 
 unnecessary multiplication of our intellectual powers. What 
 good reason can be given for assigning one name to the 
 faculty which perceives truths that are certain, and another 
 name to the faculty which perceives truths that are probable ? 
 Would it not be equally proper to distinguish by different 
 names the power by which we perceive one proposition to 
 be true and another false ? " * 
 
 REMARKS ON THE ABOVE. 
 
 The cases supposed above are not parallel. The percep- 
 tion of a truth implies precisely the same assured mental 
 state as the perception of a falsehood. The difference 
 between the two cases is not in the mind, but in the object 
 of perception. But the state of mind in which we perceive a 
 truth as certain, is essentially different from that in which 
 we perceive it as probable. Here the difference is in the 
 mind, not in the object perceived. Or, if it be in the object 
 
 * Philosophy, Vol. II., p. 18. 
 
JUDGMENT. 298 
 
 perceived, it is in the mind also. The one state implies a 
 question to be settled ; the other implies none. The one 
 holds the mind in a position for the exercise of judgment ; 
 the other excludes all judgment, by shutting out all possible 
 question, and fixing the mind at once to a perceived cer- 
 tainty. The difference of mental states, and of course the 
 difference of mental powers exercised, in these two cases, is 
 clearly defined and very important. 
 
 As to the " purest and most correct writers," to whom 
 this philosopher refers, as sanctioning his " more enlarged 
 sense " of judgment, I have been unable to find any of the 
 English language, whose authority often transcends that of 
 Dugald Stewart himself. If reference be had to continental 
 writers, their nomenclature and classifications are so widely 
 different from ours, that the unqualified adoption of any of 
 their definitions would mislead us, unless we should make 
 an entire revolution of our system. The attempt to incor- 
 porate fragments of German philosophy with the philosophy 
 of Great Britain, must necessarily prove a failure. But 
 Stewart wrote when the Kantian speculations were in the 
 height of their glory, and it is no reflection on his intellectual 
 eminence, that he was sometimes overawed by their splen- 
 dors. 
 
 VIEWS OF BROWN. 
 
 With his usual passion for simplification, Brown of course 
 annihilates judgment. " Those who ascribe judgment to 
 man," he says, "ascribe to him also another faculty, which 
 they distinguish by the name of reason, — though reasoning 
 itself is found, when analyzed, to be nothing more than a 
 series of judgments. The whole is thus represented as 
 something different from all the parts which compose it." * 
 
 Is it then strange that a house should be something differ- 
 ent from all the bricks and boards and nails which compose 
 it ? We are in the habit of supposing a house a different 
 thing from the materials of which it is built. Whatever we 
 
 * Philosophy, Vol. II., p. 522. 
 
 25* 
 
294 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 may call these materials, we cannot properly call them a 
 house. In like manner, whatever may be the elements or 
 means of a judgment, they are not the judgment itself. 
 
 Now this same writer tells us that " reasoning is nothing 
 more than a series of relative suggestions." * Judgments, 
 then, turn out to be relative suggestions. That suggestions 
 are more or less concerned in bringing the mind to a state 
 of judgment, is undoubted ; but mere suggestion is not 
 judgment. The term judgment, whether as applied to the 
 decisions of a tribunal, or to matters of taste, or to the ordi- 
 nary affairs of life, is not represented by the idea usually 
 attached to suggestion ; and if applied to mathematical 
 and other self-evident truths, it is equally in fault. A sug- 
 gestion may imply doubt and start inquiry, but in self-evident 
 truths, there is no room for doubt. 
 
 My apology for saying so much on this point, is in the 
 fact, that differing from such high authorities seems to imply 
 an obligation to state their views, together with the reasons 
 for dissent. 
 
 ADDITIONAL REMARKS. 
 
 In aiming to simplify, men sometimes render plain things 
 obscure. In nothing is this more true than in attempts to 
 simplify the mental faculties. To call intuition judgment, 
 for the sake of simplification, when there is another well- 
 defined sphere of judgment to which all men give their 
 practical assent, renders complex and obscure what was 
 previously simple and plain. Elucidation is not in the few- 
 ness of definitions, but in their accuracy. In his attempts 
 to simplify the mental faculties, Brown has multiplied words, 
 explanations, ingenious speculations, all to the effect of 
 involving rather than unfolding the essential laws of mind. 
 In an analysis of the mental phenomena, the most instructive 
 method is, to relinquish all theory and speculation, take the 
 facts as we find them, and give to their several classes the 
 names sanctioned by common usage. In this view, consider- 
 
 * Philosophy, Vol. II., p. 523. 
 
JUDGMENT. 295 
 
 ing judgment sufficiently distinct and important to have a 
 name and a place, I have endeavored to give it its due. 
 
 IMPORTANCE 0E A SOUND JUDGMENT. 
 
 This is one of the highest attributes of humanity. It is 
 not only one of those which distinguish man from the brute, 
 but, more than perhaps any other, it distinguishes man from 
 man. Indeed, the proportion of men who possess a thor- 
 oughly sound judgment is very small. The term is nearly 
 a synonym for that tuisdom, whose price is said to be above 
 rubies. The man who judges rightly, and acts as he judges, 
 has indeed the priceless treasure. 
 
 The importance of this attribute is felt in all departments 
 of life. In the economic, social, civil, political, moral and 
 religious world, it holds the balance of destiny, and interests 
 of both temporal and eternal moment are suspended upon it. 
 It is indeed a crowning attribute of the Supreme Being, 
 divested of the single element of uncertainty incidental to it 
 in man, and on it are suspended the amazing destinies of 
 the finalday. 
 
 Although a man have all other mental endowments in 
 highest measure, — although he have the reasoning powers 
 of a Butler, the imagination of a Dante, the eloquence of 
 a Cicero, without judgment, they will profit him little. 
 Whereas, a sound judgment, even in the absence of superi- 
 ority in all other qualities, will not only conduct a man well 
 through life, and render him a blessing to others, but will 
 eventually cause even mediocrity itself to excel. 
 
 CHARACTERISTICS OF A SOUND JUDGMENT. 
 
 That this endowment is possessed by men naturally, in 
 very unequal degrees, there can be no question ; and yet 
 the difference made by personal education and habits is 
 probably greater. The following are the principal elements 
 of a sound judgment ; every person has it in his power to 
 cultivate them to an almost indefinite extent. 
 
296 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 1. Impartiality. The person who would have sound- 
 ness of judgment, must form the habit of excluding from his 
 mind all prejudice, all prepossession, all passion ; and of 
 holding it in a balanced position, equally ready to decide in 
 the one or the other direction, as evidence shall preponde- 
 rate. If he have any interest in the case, he must be careful 
 to keep it out of the scale. He who cannot hold the scales 
 of a severe and unbending impartiality, is unfit to judge. 
 
 2. Patience. This balanced state of mind must be 
 patiently retained, till evidences are fully furnished, facts 
 fully disclosed, and brought in relation to the standard of 
 judgment. A sound judgment is not, ordinarily, the work 
 of a moment. An intuition, a suggestion, a single percep- 
 tion, demands no patience. It is as the flash of an eye. 
 But a sound judgment is the fruit of time and patience. No 
 man is fit to be a judge, in any important matter, who has 
 not learned to " let patience have her perfect work." 
 
 3. Memory. As judgment is exercised in view of facts, 
 memory is essential. The moment memory falters, so that 
 facts bearing on the question slip from the mind, the judg- 
 ment suffers. Hence, civil judges, at the advanced age 
 when memory fails, are considered incompetent. The only 
 remedy for this, is a careful noting down of facts, and a 
 repeated recurrence to their bearings and relations. The 
 failure of memory is usually the first step towards a faltering 
 judgment. All the other elements of a sound judgment 
 usually survive this. The disastrous mistakes often made 
 by men of business, in advanced periods of life ; the strange 
 errors of judgment, so unlike their earlier doings, arise from 
 their not remembering all that is material to the business in 
 hand. Hence men should distrust their judgment, and let 
 caution predominate, as memory fails. 
 
 4. Firmness. Until a man can face consequences, and 
 nerve his mind to a straight-forward course, whatever may 
 be the result, his judgment is not to be trusted. If he 
 flinches, in view of a painful result ; if facts cease to have 
 their weight, because they lead to an undesirable issue ; he 
 is not a sound judge. There must be a stability, a steadi- 
 ness, a resolution of mind, which will follow evidence wher- 
 ever it may lead. 
 
questions. 297 
 
 5. Sincere and ardent love of truth and justice. 
 Patience must never degenerate to pusillanimity, nor impar- 
 tiality to indifference. No man can wisely judge a matter, 
 in which he feels little or no interest. We often hear of 
 great coolness of mind, as a mark of sound judgment. But 
 the mind may have too much coolness, as well as too little. 
 There must ever be an ardent love of truth and justice, and 
 in every specific case there should be a felt emotion pro- 
 portioned to its importance. It is with the heart that 
 man judges aright, as well as with the head. He who 
 brings his mind to a decision in a case of life and death, with 
 as little emotion as is due to a cause involving a few dollars, 
 has not in his soul all the proper elements of a judge. 
 Those qualities which should control and guide his feelings, 
 have been mentioned above ; the feelings themselves should 
 never be wanting. A just judge, is always & feeling judge. 
 These last remarks have more special reference to judicial 
 tribunals, and to the various higher exercises of judgment, 
 but they apply, to some extent, to its more humble and less 
 important decisions. 
 
 The relation of judgment to religion is involved in what 
 has been said under the head of reason. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXVH. 
 
 With what do some writers confound judgment 1 Remarks ? Con- 
 sidering reason as the synonym for induction — what then ? Illustration ? 
 Considering reason as discursive, &c. — what then 1 Illustrate. Defini- 
 tion of judgment ? Explain. Remarks of Stewart and Reid? Why 
 have writers confounded judgment with other mental faculties ? What 
 says Cousin and Locke ? Strictures on Cousin ? Views of Reid ? Re- 
 mark in the note ? To what does Reid unfortunately extend the sphere 
 of judgment 1 — and how defend his so doing? What is said of him in 
 reply ? Views of Stewart on this point 1 State the argument in reply to 
 Stewart. What is said of the nomenclature of continental writers ? Views 
 
298 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 of Brown ? Reply to them "? Apology for saying thus much on this 
 point, and remarks ? What is said of aiming to simplify 1 ? In what does 
 elucidation consist 1 What is said of Brown ? In an analysis of the 
 mental phenomena, what is the most instructive method ? What is said 
 of the importance of judgment ? For what is the term nearly a synonym r i 
 Where is its importance felt 1 Remarks ? First characteristic of a sound 
 judgment? Explain. Second? Remarks'? Third ? Remarks ? Fourth? 
 Remarks ? Fifth ? Remarks ? 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 IMAGINATION, 
 
 Imagination may be defined, TJie poiver of forming 
 ideal or fancied objects. It is believed that this definition 
 will be found sufficiently explicit, while it has the advantage 
 of most others in point of simplicity. Reid confounds 
 imagination with conception.* But there is an obvious and 
 important distinction between them. Conception replaces 
 in the mind an exact transcript of whatever has been per- 
 ceived or felt ; while imagination selects from it whatever is 
 preferred, and from this forms a new and fancied object. | 
 
 Hence imagined objects may bear resemblance to objects 
 
 which we have perceived, or they may be wholly unlike 
 
 them. Creations of imagination do not imply any new ele~ 
 
 \ mentary conceptions, but only new and fanciful combinations 
 
 of those previously in the mind. 
 
 * " Conceiving, imagining, apprehending, understanding, having a 
 notion of a thing, are common words, used to express that operation of 
 the understanding, which the logicians call simple apprehension. Logicians 
 define simple apprehension to be the bare conception of a thing, without 
 any judgment or belief about it." Reid's Works, Vol. II., p. 138. 
 
 t " The business of conception, according to the account I have given of 
 it, is to present us with an exact transcript of what we have felt or per- 
 ceived. But we have, moreover, a power of modifying our conceptions, 
 by combining the parts of different ones together, so as to form new 
 wholes of our own creation. I shall employ the word imagination to ex- 
 press this power." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 80. 
 
300 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 IMAGINATION AN ULTIMATE FACULTY. 
 
 Most persons are somewhat surprised and disappointed, 
 when told by philosophers that imagination is not an ultimate 
 faculty of our mental constitution ; but that what we call 
 acts of imagination are only the joint operation of other 
 faculties. Thus Stewart, for instance, says, " Imagination 
 is formed by a combination of various faculties;'' "it 
 includes conception, abstraction, judgment, taste or fancy." 
 Again he says, " What we call the power of imagination is 
 not the gift of nature, but the result of acquired habits, 
 aided by favorable circumstances. It is not an original 
 endowment of mind, but an accomplishment formed by expe- 
 rience and situation." According to this, all the difference 
 between any ordinary genius and a Raphael or a Milton, is 
 not due to "the gift of nature," but "is the result of 
 acquired habits, aided by favorable circumstances." * I am 
 confident that most readers will agree with me, in dissent- 
 ing from this view. 
 
 Whether we have an ultimate principle in our mental 
 constitution, which we call imagination, or whether what 
 we call imagining, is only the combined action of several 
 other faculties, is a question of sufficient interest to claim 
 some examination. 
 
 To illustrate his view, Stewart says, " Let us consider 
 the steps by which Milton must have proceeded in creating 
 his imaginary Garden of Eden. When he first proposed to 
 himself that subject of description, it is reasonable to sup- 
 pose that a variety of the most striking scenes which he had 
 seen, crowded into his mind. The association of ideas sug- 
 gested them, and the power of conception placed each of 
 them before him with all its beauties and imperfections. 
 
 * Philosophy, Vol. L, p. 269. Also, p. 315. 
 
IMAGINATION. 301 
 
 In every natural scene, if we destine it for any particular 
 purpose, there are defects and redundancies, which art may 
 sometimes, but cannot always, correct. But the power of 
 imagination is unlimited. She can create and annihilate ; 
 and dispose at pleasure, her woods, her rocks, and her 
 rivers. Milton, accordingly, would not copy his Eden from 
 any one scene, but would select from each the features 
 which were most eminently beautiful. The power of abstrac- 
 tion enabled him to make the separation, and taste directed 
 him in the selection." " From what has been said, it is suffi- 
 ciently evident, that imagination is not a simple power of the 
 mind, like attention, conception, or abstraction ; but that it 
 is formed by a combination of various faculties." * 
 
 REMARKS ON THE ABOVE. 
 
 1. This work of Milton was one engaging all his mental 
 powers ; — we scarcely know which most. Imagination 
 figures conspicuously amongst them, but they are so involved, 
 that they cannot be easily distinguished. In order fairly to 
 test the question, whether a given power is an ultimate or 
 simple attribute of the mind, we must take some of its ulti- 
 mate or simplest acts. 
 
 2. The other mental powers, attention, conception, abstrac- 
 tion, according to the above illustration, are also complex. 
 For, in the view of this writer, conception implies something 
 previously perceived or felt ; and this of course implies atten- 
 tion. But if we suppose the materials prepared for the 
 
 I exercise of a given power, so that nothing is wanting but 
 the exercise of that power itself, we may regard attention, 
 
 j conception, abstraction, as simple attributes ; nor does it 
 appear, in this view, that imagination is not entitled to the 
 same rank. For I must add, 
 
 3. In the above illustration, the essential thing is still 
 | wanting ; that is, the archetype or model. Conception 
 ' places before the mind the vast world of objects which it has 
 
 perceived ; abstraction selects from them ; judgment or 
 
 * Intellectual Philosophy, Yol. I, p. 269. 
 
 ' 26 
 
302 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 taste is concerned in directing the selection and combina- 
 tion ; but where is the pattern, — the form or image, — 
 according to which these elements are to be shaped ? Here 
 is the specific work of imagination. 
 
 We cannot indeed imagine, without the materials fur- 
 nished by other mental powers ; neither can we, without the 
 same, attend, conceive, abstract. If the mind be duly fur- 
 nished, merely to imagine something, seems to be as simple 
 and direct an act, as, when thus furnished, to attend to 
 something, or to conceive or abstract something. Under the 
 glow of excitement, the mind imagines in a twinkling of the 
 eye ; a thousand fancied forms flit before it ; according to 
 the nature of the excitement, images of terror, of beauty, 
 of joy, dance along ; and the mind's imaginings seem to 
 outrun all its other acts. Hence, this power or proneness 
 to imagine or fancy, seems as primitive and natural to 
 the mind, as its power or proneness to attend, conceive, or 
 abstract. 
 
 SIMPLE ACTS OF IMAGINATION. 
 
 When a person imagines a sound, a taste* a smell, he 
 does not necessarily abstract that from all other things ; that 
 may be the only subject of thought. Abstracting of course 
 implies the presence to the mind of two or more objects. 
 Abstracting is selecting; and evidently we cannot select, 
 unless two or more things are in our thoughts, from which 
 the selection is made. The simplest act of imagination, — and 
 I do not see why it is not as simple as any other mental 
 act, — is that in which an individual thing is imagined. To 
 call that act abstraction, conception, conjecture, or any thing 
 but imagination, is contrary to the most accredited use of 
 language. 
 
 If it be asked, why the mind thus imagines, the answer 
 is, Because it was made to do so. It is its nature to do it ; 
 as much as it is to perceive, abstract, reason. If it be asked, 
 why a person imagines one thing rather than another ; the 
 answer is, because his susceptibility to the one is more lively 
 than to the other. Constitutional temperament, education, 
 
IMAGINATION. 303 
 
 or other circumstances, may occasion a special susceptibility 
 to particular objects. The lover has his peculiar imaginings ; 
 the miser has his ; the hungry man imagines food ; the 
 thirsty, drink; — all men imagine, as susceptibility prompts. 
 
 IMAGINATION NOT CONFINED TO OBJECTS OF SENSE. 
 
 Reid, Addison, and some others, have limited the province 
 of imagination to objects of sight. Stewart and other wri- 
 ters extend its province not only to all objects of sense, but 
 to all the objects of human knowledge.* 
 
 The word image, as understood by the early writers, did 
 not import any thing exactly physical, but a sort of ghostly 
 existence. Hence imagination and fancy, as used in the 
 schools, are nearly synonymous. The phantom, from which 
 comes the word fancy, was a mere airy thing, with which the 
 senses had nothing to do. Giving this latitude to imagina- 
 tion, she takes wings and soars into the heights of the super- 
 sensuous ; she ranges the spirit- world, as well as this. A 
 man imagines an angel in his room : must he needs give 
 that angel a material form ? He simply imagines, we will 
 suppose, the presence and design of the spirit ; he has noth- 
 ing to do with its form. It is perhaps the spirit of some 
 departed friend, that he imagines present with him. If any 
 man assert that the mental act is not imagination, unless the 
 spirit is clothed with a form, the common sentiment and 
 usage of mankind, both learned and ignorant, is against him. 
 
 Identifying ghost with spectre, naturally leads to the idea 
 of something visible, when a ghost is imagined. Ghost is a 
 
 * " The sensible world, it must be remembered, is not the only field 
 where imagination exerts her powers. All the objects of human knowl- 
 edge supply materials to her forming hand ; diversifying, infinitely, the 
 works she produces, while the mode of her operation remains essentially 
 
 t uniform." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 206. This is no doubt true ; 
 but it is inconsistent with what the same writer had previously maintained. 
 
 I He confined perceptions to objects of sense ; conceptions, to what we have 
 perceived or felt ; and imaginations, to conceptions. His theory, therefore, 
 restricts imagination to things seen and felt ; but when that is forgotten, 
 
 ' he virtually fells on the precise view of imagination which I have main- 
 
 I tained. His foundation was too narrow for his superstructure. 
 
304 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Saxon word, denoting a spirit. 'Spectre is of Latin origin, 
 denoting something made visible, the appearance of a ghost. 
 Now a man may imagine not only a spectre — a spirit made 
 visible — but the spirit itself, without the visibility. 
 
 IMAGINATION MAY BE WHOLLY CREATIVE. 
 
 When we hear of something interesting in a place, even if 
 we never heard of the place before, and have no knowledge 
 of it by description, we are yet apt to form a picture of it in 
 our minds. What we imagine may be wholly unlike the 
 place, and no reason can be given why one picture rather 
 than another is formed, except that the feelings and associa- 
 tions of the mind, at the time, are such as naturally give 
 rise to it. The picture springs up spontaneously out of 
 materials in the mind, as passion or circumstances prompt.* 
 
 In the mind of him who has a highly creative imagination, 
 thousands of fancies thus involuntarily come and go. If, 
 then, he bring his will to bear ; store his mind with knowl- 
 edge ; call his other powers into service, to select, combine, 
 arrange, and perfect his imaginings ; the result may be 
 some great original work, like that of Homer, Milton, or 
 Dante. 
 
 IMAGINATION MAY BE CREATIVE ONLY IN PART. 
 
 Every child who studies geography, forms some picture 
 of London, Constantinople, Rome. He never saw these 
 places, nor, we will suppose, any picture of them. But they 
 have been described to him. His imagination is thus sustained 
 and guided by the description. It is creative only in part. 
 He imagines how Rome looks, but the accuracy, not to say 
 
 * A child bred in the country, on reading the account of Christ's inter- 
 view with the woman at the well, would be apt to imagine a well situated 
 in a yard, much like his father's, wanting the pole and bucket. A child 
 bred in the city, and having no knowledge of the country well, would 
 probably imagine something like a deep cistern or reservoir, wanting the 
 pump or hydrant. From those materials, whatever they he, which pre- 
 vious perceptions have furnished, imagination forms her picture. 
 
IMAGINATION. 305 
 
 beauty, of the picture in his mind, depends more upon the 
 accuracy of the description and his power of apprehension, 
 than upon the fertility of his imagination. Hence persons 
 of the most poetic imagination, do not always form the most 
 accurate ideas concerning places of which they read. Yet 
 without some imagination, they could form no idea of them 
 whatever. 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE IMAGINATION. 
 
 In the case above, a man imagines how a place looks 
 which he never saiv ; in this case, imagination helps him to 
 describe a place which he has seen. Conception, memory, 
 and imagination, seem to be so closely allied here, that Reid 
 and some others make them all one. But the distinction 
 should not be lost. A man may have an excellent memory, 
 and yet, for want of imagination, describe badly. As only 
 a small part of the things constituting the object to be 
 described can be noticed, imagination assists in selecting 
 and arranging them, and throws over the whole the embel- 
 lishments of fancy, so as to produce the most happy effect. 
 
 We are thus enabled to understand how imagination con- 
 tributes to poetry and eloquence, to the fine arts, to science, 
 morals, and religion. In all these she is a handmaid of true 
 and effective genius. 
 
 IMAGINATION SUBSERVIENT TO POETRY. 
 
 Imagination is most creative and original in poetry. 
 Some kinds of descriptive and historic poetry, whose design 
 is to detail facts somewhat enlivened with imagination, do 
 not admit of her boldest flights. The same may be said of 
 most didactic poetry. But in poetry where the very facts 
 are, as it were, created by the mind of the writer, like those 
 of Dante and Milton, imagination performs her most charac- 
 teristic and glorious achievements. Compelled to walk in 
 paths hitherto untrodden, divested of all incumbrances, 
 restricted only by taste and judgment, she takes wings and 
 26* 
 
306 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 soars at large through the realms of heaven, earth, and hell. 
 From these three worlds, and all others which she can create 
 or explore, she gathers treasures to enrich her verse. As 
 she plunges into the mysterious depths, or ascends the giddy 
 heights, the novelty of her position kindles yet more her 
 fires ; the powers of creativeness are thus stimulated to the 
 utmost; strange and yet stranger fancies rise, — the won- 
 derful, the beautiful, the grand, the awful, come rushing in, 
 to reward the adventurer with those original and bold con- 
 ceptions that glow upon his pages. It must be a sturdy 
 mind that can read poetry thus produced, and not feel 
 itself kindle with something of its delicious inspiration. 
 This is poetry — real poetry — and the highest style of 
 imagination. 
 
 IMAGINATION SUBSERVIENT TO OTHER KINDS OF ELEGANT 
 COMPOSITION. 
 
 In other kinds of elegant composition, imagination often 
 figures scarcely less, — not so sustained, not so adventurous, 
 but equally beautiful and sublime. There are passages in 
 the prose writings of English, German, French, and Ameri- 
 can authors, as truly the work of creative imagination, as 
 any thing found in Dante or Milton. They are the brilliant 
 flashes, the glowing and startling pictures, which rouse our 
 feelings, awaken our admiration, relieve the tedium of sober 
 facts and dull commonplaces, and make us love to go on 
 with the author. 
 
 But where there is a redundancy of such passages, or 
 they are evidently forced in, or ambitiously studied, as the 
 writer's chief dependence, they become as offensive, as, 
 under other circumstances, they are pleasing. Hence, only 
 persons of creative and lively imagination, should attempt 
 this style of writing. There are other kinds, in which they 
 may excel, equally honorable and important. 
 
IMAGINATION. 307 
 
 IMAGINATION SUBSERVIENT TO ELOQUENCE. 
 
 No man can be truly eloquent, without imagination of a 
 high order. Knowledge, logic, reasoning powers, however 
 important, cannot alone make a man eloquent. Let there 
 be two men of precisely the same logical powers, the one of 
 a high order of imagination, the other possessing almost 
 none, and while an audience will sleep under the demonstra- 
 tions of the latter, they will be electrified and swayed by 
 the eloquence of the former. Even the sturdy juryman and 
 the wary judge, are unnerved and taken captive by the per- 
 suasive charms of imagination. Men who have little of it 
 themselves, are yet delighted with it in others. There is 
 something in every human mind, which makes it delight in 
 the brilliant creations of fancy ; and when the mind is thus 
 pleased, it is in a favorable state to be convinced and swayed 
 by him who has thus gratified it. We throw ourselves, 
 almost unconsciously, into the hands of those who please us. 
 And then, again, the respect we feel for the talent, which 
 can at will call up such splendid creations of imagery, has 
 no small influence in gaining our confidence. The man 
 who thus pleases us, and secures our respect and admiration 
 for his talents, needs but little logic to bring us to his views. 
 It is indeed almost surprising to observe, with what slender 
 arguments a man of brilliant imagination will carry his 
 points. 
 
 Thus the pulpit, the forum, the bar, owe much of their 
 power to this noble faculty. There is a fascination in her 
 embellishments, an eloquence in her appeals, which makes 
 way through the sternest philosophy and gains the most 
 stubborn will. If learned infidels went scores of miles to 
 hang with raptures upon the lips of Whitefield, it was not 
 less because he wielded the power of a burning imagination 
 than of a devout enthusiasm. Without it, the piety of a 
 martyr, joined with the logic of a Butler, cannot make a 
 man truly eloquent. Although an accurate logician, a sound 
 reasoner, a faithful expounder of facts, unless he can throw 
 something of the creations of his own fancy into his work, 
 
308 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 he will be dull and tedious. It was when enthusiasm kin- 
 dled in the eye, and imagination, like lightning in the cloud, 
 flashed forth with the thunder of eloquence, that Demos- 
 thenes, and Chatham, and Patrick Henry, carried all hearts 
 with them. 
 
 THE RELATION OP IMAGINATION TO THE FINE ARTS. 
 
 When the painter is a mere copyist, there is little demand 
 on imagination. There is perhaps more in painting from 
 nature, than in repeating a picture already made ; but when 
 the object to be copied is before him, whether it be the pic- 
 ture, or the original, the work in hand is more a trial of 
 accuracy of observation, judgment, and mechanical skill, 
 than of imagination. Persons of dull imagination are some- 
 times excellent copyists. The same is mostly true of sculp- 
 ture ; although this art is, perhaps, more imaginative. 
 But when painting and sculpture have reference to original 
 creations of fancy, the case is quite different.* 
 
 RELATION OF IMAGINATION TO SCIENCE. 
 
 As we arrive at results in natural science by a severe 
 induction of facts, it might seem to afford little play to 
 imagination. But her assistance is of the greatest utility 
 in framing those theories which guide our inquiries, and in 
 creating in anticipation those beautiful structures, after 
 which the inductions of science are striving. Thus the 
 mind is guided, cheered, sustained, on its way to the ima- 
 gined goal. The man in search of some new truth or law 
 in science, is like the adventurer ploughing through tedious 
 
 * "As far as the painter aims at copying exactly what he sees, he may 
 be guided mechanically hy general rules ; and lie requires no aid from 
 that creative genius which is characteristic of the poet. When the his- 
 tory or the landscape painter indulges his genius, in forming new combi- 
 nations of his own, he vies with the poet in the noblest exertions of the 
 poetical art." Stewart's Philosophy, Vol. I., p. 271. 
 
QUESTIONS. 309 
 
 and perilous seas, to reach some happy country, seen as yet 
 only by his imagination. Had Columbus been without 
 imagination, he would never have discovered America. 
 Had Archimedes, Newton, La Place, Harvey, and Davy, 
 been destitute of this noble quality, those splendid achieve- 
 ments in science would not have been by them made. 
 Imagination, fearless and winged, goes before, to open and 
 guide the way. True, the more steady and exact steps of 
 induction must needs follow, to chastise her wanderings and 
 rectify her mistakes, but she has done an invaluable service 
 in leading forth induction to this work. Accordingly, men 
 distinguished in scientific discoveries, have usually been 
 men of vigorous and original imagination. But the converse 
 
 # O O CD 
 
 is not always true. Men may have intense imagination, 
 but lack the patience of detail and soundness of judgment 
 requisite to success in scientific pursuits. 
 
 Even in the abstract science of mathematics, imagination 
 has more to do than some suppose ; for, as diagrams and 
 other visible signs assist to carry forward processes of 
 demonstration, so imagination, by creating forms to abstract 
 truths, gives them a kind of visible reality, by which the 
 mind can the better apprehend and reason upon them. It 
 is a great mistake to suppose that mathematics and imagina- 
 tion are at variance. All the mental poivers harmonize 
 together and assist each other. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTEE XXVIII. 
 
 "What is imagination ? Remarks ? Have all writers considered it an 
 ultimate faculty ? What is said of Stewart's view 1 State his illustra- 
 tion. First remark upon it 1 ? Second? Third? What is necessary in 
 order to imagine? Is the same necessary in order to conceive, abstract, 
 &c. ? What does merely to imagine something seem to be ? Remarks ? 
 What is said of simple acts of imagination ? What does abstraction imply ? 
 
810 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Is this necessarily involved in imagining ? "What is the simplest act of 
 imagination 1 Why does the mind imagine thus 1 Why does a person 
 imagine one thing rather than another 1 Illustrations ? How have Reid, 
 Addison, and others, limited imagination 1 Stewart and others ? Sub- 
 stance of the note 1 What is said of image, &c. ? Imagining a spirit ? 
 Ghost and spectre 1 May imagination be wholly creative ? Illustrations ? 
 What is said of him who has a highly creative imagination ? Instances 
 in which imagination is creative only in part ? What is said of descrip- 
 tive imagination ? Its subserviency to poetry ? To other kinds of ele- 
 gant composition ? To eloquence ? To the fine arts 1 To natural 
 science ? To the abstract science of mathematics ? 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 IMAGINATION AS RELATED TO MORALS AND 
 RELIGION. 
 
 Probably none of the mental faculties has a more direct 
 and powerful influence upon the moral and religious charac- 
 ter, than the imagination. Rightly used, it purifies, ele- 
 vates, ennobles ; — perverted, it defiles, debases, ruins. 
 Few consider at how many points it touches and moves the 
 hidden springs of character. It is early developed, and it 
 begins to produce its effects at the very dawn of intellect. 
 Children no sooner begin to perceive and to think, than they 
 begin to imagine. Let us then briefly notice the influence 
 of imagination as concerned, first, in the formation of an 
 irreligious and vicious character; and, secondly, in the 
 formation of a Christian character. 
 
 IMAGINATION PERVERTED. 
 
 There is a powerful reciprocity of action between the 
 imagination and the moral feelings and purposes. They 
 mutually purify or corrupt each other. Those things with 
 which one suffers his imagination to be conversant, are per- 
 petually imparting, as it were, their own character to his 
 mind, and gaining an ascendancy over him. Thus, the man 
 devoted to sensual pleasure, sends abroad his imagination 
 in pursuit of materials to gratify his grovelling desires. 
 Whenever he is relieved from the pressure of care, this busy 
 agent renews her service, and paints to him, on living can- 
 vas, every variety of scenes and objects adapted to please 
 
312 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and to move his sensual passions. His passions, thus ex- 
 cited, beget a purpose to gratify them. 
 
 This purpose, itself vicious, occasions many other vicious 
 purposes and many false deeds, on the way to the final 
 accomplishment of its object. Thus does the unhappy vic- 
 tim of crime become more and more involved in guilt, until 
 it becomes too late to retrieve his folly. 
 
 INORDINATE LOVE OF WEALTH. 
 
 The inordinate love of wealth, is often greatly due to 
 the influence of a perverted imagination. This faculty is 
 employed in picturing scenes of worldly distinction, fashion, 
 gaiety, abundance, apparent ease and importance, until the 
 heart is stirred with an ardent desire for these things. The 
 person supposed sees only the outside, and that at a dis- 
 tance. Imagination paints to him only the brilliant and 
 fascinating part of the picture. He cannot look within, 
 upon the real wretchedness that frequently inhabits the 
 dwellings of ill-gotten and misused abundance ; for it is the 
 world's policy to expose only the bright and gay side. 
 Hence these imposing objects gradually assume, in his 
 mind, a paramount importance. His thoughts, desires, pur- 
 poses, incline more and more to centre upon them. The 
 hours of business, the hours appointed for sleep, the hours 
 due to domestic enjoyment, yes, even the hours of the holy 
 Sabbath, become at last alike desecrated to the all-absorbing 
 pursuit of gain. 
 
 Thus does the man by degrees become a miser. The 
 objects for which he at first desired wealth are lost sight of; 
 he leaves one, another, and another of them behind, in his 
 ardent pursuit of wealth itself. The means become the 
 end. At first, he desired wealth for the ease, luxuries, 
 refinements, and social enjoyments, to which it ministers ; 
 but as he rises in wealth, and reaches the amount to which 
 he at first aspired, his imagination, more rapid than his 
 gains, holds before him other arid higher ends to be obtained. 
 Some person has yet more than he ; and the glory of being 
 highest in wealth, is a prize too tempting for a perverse 
 
IMAGINATION AS BELATED TO MORALS AND RELIGION. 313 
 
 imagination to overlook, in her cunning work of enslaving 
 the soul. 
 
 THE LOVE OF POWER AND FAME. 
 
 Not only do the licentious, the envious, the covetous, 
 kindle the flame of their passion by the aid of imagination, 
 but the lust of power and fame is, in a great measure, 
 indebted to the same means. It is in no small measure 
 through the influence of a perverted imagination, mocking 
 them with phantoms of expected glory, that the Alexanders, 
 the Caesars, the Napoleons, and others of like spirit, have 
 been incited to rise, tread down the nations, and spill human 
 blood like water. Would the renowned son of Philip, or 
 would Napoleon have done as he did, had he not been led 
 by the illusion of a perverted imagination ? It is by the 
 same illusion that the less renowned, but perhaps not less 
 wicked spirit of the highway robber and of the midnight 
 assassin, is moved and emboldened to its horrid deeds. 
 
 YOUTH IN CITIES. 
 
 A perverted imagination ruins many of the youth in those 
 towns and cities, in which character is peculiarly exposed 
 by temptations to vice. The imagination first lingers, per- 
 haps, amid the fascinations of the theatre, until it enkindles 
 a desire and gives rise to a purpose to attend it ; other 
 scenes of pleasure are there opened ; the youth indulges 
 first his eye, then his appetite. Passion is thus inflamed 
 and rendered too violent for reason to control. Next, the 
 company of the riotous is sought ; of course, means must be 
 obtained to meet his expenses, and he is thus tempted to 
 wrong his employer. The foundations of character are at 
 length subverted ; moral integrity has gone ; complete reck- 
 lessness and abandonment to vice follow, and perhaps an 
 untimely grave hides a curse from the world. Such is the 
 brief sad history of not a few youth, — youth of fair promise, 
 ardent temperament, lively susceptibilities ; some of them, 
 27 
 
314 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 perhaps, of the finest natural genius and most ingenuous 
 dispositions, who have been ruined by yielding to the allure 
 ments of depraved imagination. 
 
 
 VICIOUS LITERATURE. 
 
 
 Many can bear witness to the almost fatal ascendancy 
 which a perverted imagination, in love with fictitious writings 
 of a corrupting nature, has at some periods obtained over 
 them. At those periods in life when reason was most feeble, 
 if susceptible to the fascinations of imagination wrought into 
 the forms of fictitious tales, corrupt and bewitching romance 
 has led them quite astray from the truthful world ; it has 
 beguiled them of the substantial treasures of intellectual 
 and moral wealth, for which the rational mind was made, 
 and amused them with the gay dreams and pictures of fancy, 
 until they were nearly unfitted for the sober realities and 
 pure enjoyments of life. 
 
 IMAGINATION RIGHTLY EMPLOYED. 
 
 No sooner does a regenerate imagination, having broken 
 away from her corrupting associations, become associated 
 with objects of moral purity, than she begins to act as power- 
 fully on the mind to elevate it, as she previously did to 
 debase it. It is by her aid, co-operating with that of mem- 
 ory, that the Christian expatiates in thought over the past 
 and prospective glories of the Redeemer's kingdom, and 
 thus enjoys his richest repast of devout meditations ; that 
 he converses with the good and great of other ages, sympa- 
 thizes with their conflicts and triumphs, and imbibes some- 
 thing of their spirit ; that he becomes a member of the 
 illustrious family, which alone of all the families of the earth 
 was counted worthy to survive the flood, and participates of 
 their faith, fidelity, and reward ; that he becomes a brother 
 and companion of all those noble men, whose names form so 
 bright a roll on the sacred pages of antiquity ; — and, more 
 than all, that he lives in his thoughts and feelings with the 
 
IMAGINATION AS BELATED TO MORALS AND RELIGION. 315 
 
 conflicts and victories of him, who, after an earthly life of 
 more than earthly wisdom, passed through the grave un- 
 harmed to a throne of immortality in the heavens. Thus 
 do his affections, his purposes, his hopes, become more and 
 more pure, elevated, ennobling. 
 
 It is by the aid of the same imagination that he lives, in 
 anticipation, amidst the happy scenes of future days — the 
 regained beauties of paradise blooming over all lands ; and 
 perhaps he seldom bows the knee in homage to his Maker, 
 or approaches the sacramental board, but imagination carries 
 him even beyond the scenes of the present world, connecting 
 the duty in which he engages with its consequences in 
 eternity. 
 
 It is thus evident, that the relation of imagination to 
 morals and religion is exceedingly extensive and important. 
 In all the ways above specified, and in numerous others, it 
 serves to enliven the feelings, purify the affections, elevate 
 the purposes, and enrich the whole soul. Persons of vivid 
 imagination, when it is duly disciplined and rightly applied, 
 have thus a great advantage over those whose imagination 
 is dulL 
 
 discipline of the imagination. 
 
 From what has been said, it is obvious that no faculty 
 needs to be placed under a more vigilant discipline than this. 
 Like that mighty element, fire, — with which it is often 
 compared, — it is a useful servant, but a dangerous master. 
 Few conditions are more perilous, than that of the youth 
 over whom imagination has gained ascendancy. He is like 
 a ship in a gale, without a helm. The greatest caution 
 should therefore be exercised in the development and growth 
 of this faculty. 
 
 WORKS OF IMAGINATION. 
 
 Works of imagination should never be read without due 
 regard to their character and to the condition of the mind. 
 
316 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 An indiscriminate reading of fictitious tales, in every stage 
 of mental growth, can hardly fail to be ruinous. Yet the 
 imagination, no less than the other faculties, ought to be 
 cultivated ; and for this purpose, specimens of chaste litera- 
 ture, of the highest imaginative cast, should at suitable times 
 be carefully studied. They should be taken up, not merely 
 to pass an idle hour, but to engage the freshest energies of 
 the mind. 
 
 The great error is, that imagination is usually made a 
 mere plaything. Those hours only are devoted to it, which 
 are good for nothing else. It was not by so doing, that 
 Milton and Shakspeare became what they were. The 
 name of Homer could never have been made immortal, by a 
 mere passive indulgence of that noble power which is so 
 vividly impressed on the pages of the Iliad. Generally 
 speaking, imagination indulged, enfeebles and vitiates the 
 mind ; imagination disciplined, strengthens and exalts it. 
 
 HOW WORKS OF IMAGINATION SHOULD BE STUDIED. 
 
 At the proper stage of education, select portions from the 
 most brilliant works of imagination should not only be read, 
 but studied; studied, not with a primary view to philo- 
 sophical analysis, but to imbibe the spirit of the writer, enter 
 into a vivid sympathy with his conceptions and feelings, and, 
 on the wings of his imagination, to soar and exult with him. 
 The student should seek to feel and possess the writer's 
 power, before he curiously pries into the secret of it. Wri- 
 ters of the most brilliant imagination sometimes know very 
 little of analysis ; and the reader invigorates and enriches 
 his own mind, by generously feasting it upon the luxuries 
 proffered by another's, before inquiring into their nature and 
 origin. 
 
 There are two ways of studying and admiring the beauties 
 of a rose ; the one, that of picking it into pieces and examin- 
 ing its several parts ; the other, that of gazing upon it with 
 steadfast eye as a whole, and of smelling its delicious odors ; 
 that of dwelling upon its wonderful structure, its blended 
 beauties, its admirable adaptation to its end, — until the 
 
 > 
 
IMAGINATION AS RELATED TO MORALS AND RELIGION. 317 
 
 mind realizes, if I may say so, a sympathy with the Being 
 who made it. The latter method illustrates the way in which 
 the student, who would derive most advantage, should first 
 study an author. But this is not the act of an idle hour. 
 The potent stimulus of highly imaginative works will indeed 
 suffice to excite the mind, in its more sluggish moods ; (and 
 here is the reason why they are, in such moods, so often 
 resorted to) ; but this is all, in such passive mental states, 
 that they can do. Like the influence of stimulating drinks 
 upon the man who needs the very opposite stimulus — that 
 of active exercise — they leave their subject weaker, rather 
 than stronger. Only those books which were written in an 
 idle hour, can be suitably read in an idle hour. It is only 
 when those sublime passages, which intensely taxed the wri- 
 ter's genius, are met by the reader with a corresponding 
 mental activity, that his soul is truly raised, enlarged, 
 enriched, and made permanently to possess something of its 
 teacher's power. 
 
 A careful analysis, both of the mental and rhetorical 
 qualities of the writer, should be subsequently made by the 
 student, if he would realize the highest advantage ; espe- 
 cially if he contemplate authorship himself. 
 
 Imagination thus cultivated, sustains to morals and 
 religion a relation scarcely less important than that of the 
 highest developments of reason itself. Those moralists and 
 preachers, whose imaginations have been thus trained and 
 furnished, other things equal, have ever wielded the most 
 powerful influence over the consciences, the affections, and 
 the wills of their fellow-men. Not only have they exerted 
 a benign influence over their own generation, but in their 
 essays, their allegories, their songs, their discourses, they 
 continue to live through all time, regenerating the affections 
 and moulding the characters of men. 
 
 CONCLUDING REMARKS. 
 
 If what has been said be true, the imagination holds a 
 rank scarcely second to any in the mental constitution. To 
 
 27* 
 
318 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 give it early development and a right direction, is then of 
 the highest importance. Being an original element of the 
 mind, it is of course possessed by all men in a normal state, 
 although, like other powers, in an unequal degree. After 
 all, the inequality may be less due to nature than to culture. 
 Thousands of men, of the most brilliant natural genius, have 
 lived and died unknown. Others, who have become distin- 
 guished, would have lived and died equally unknown, but 
 for some incident which early called forth their powers and 
 enkindled their enthusiasm. Among the means most favora- 
 ble to the development and right direction of imagination, 
 are the following. 
 
 1. Early attention to natural scenery. Let the 
 child be particularly induced to notice whatever is beautiful, 
 grand, and sublime, in nature. Let him be taught to gaze 
 admiringly upon the glories of the setting sun, as it sinks to 
 rest curtained with its gorgeous drapery of gilded clouds ; 
 let him often turn his eyes upward to the splendors of the 
 evening sky, study the mysterious face of that moon, and 
 hold high converse with the stars ; let him look off upon the 
 wide ocean, listen to the roar of its billows, and watch its 
 majestic movements ; let him be taught to notice the sublime 
 and the beautiful in lofty mountains, majestic rivers, and 
 pleasing landscapes ; — in a word, let his attention be so 
 directed to whatever is great, sublime, awful, mysterious, 
 delightful, as to excite his admiration, call up his sense of 
 the marvellous, and enkindle his enthusiasm. Let all these 
 things be so associated with their Maker, as to lead the 
 enraptured mind " from nature up to nature's God," and 
 whatever of imagination there is, will hardly fail to develope 
 itself and to take a religious direction. 
 
 2. Reading books highly imaginative. This has 
 been anticipated. Abraham Cowley, a writer scarcely infe- 
 rior to any that Great Britain has ever produced, for 
 beauty and brilliancy of imagination, thus describes the 
 manner in which he came to be what he was : "I remem- 
 ber when I began to read, and take some pleasure in it, 
 
 
IMAGINATION AS RELATED TO MORALS AND RELIGION. 319 
 
 there was wont to lie in my mother's parlor (I know not by 
 what accident, for she herself never in her life read any 
 other book but of devotion ;) but there was wont to lie 
 Spenser's works ; this I happened to fall upon, and was 
 infinitely delighted with the stories of the knights, and 
 giants, and monsters, and brave houses, which I found every 
 where there, (though my understanding had little to do with 
 all this ;) and, by degrees, with the tinkling of the rhyme, 
 and dance of the numbers ; so that I think I had read him 
 all over, before I was twelve years old. With these affec- 
 tions of mind, and my heart wholly set upon letters, I went 
 to the university."* 
 
 Similar effects are often produced upon the young mind, 
 by reading Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress. In the lives 
 of Dante, Milton, Shakspeare, Scott, and other men of 
 remarkable genius, we find that the early reading of books 
 vividly impressed with the author's imagination, had much 
 to do with developing and directing their own. 
 
 3. Hearing and telling good stories. Imagination 
 early excites a love of stories ; — this love should not be 
 rebuked on the one hand, nor suffered to run wild on the 
 other. It should be both encouraged and guided. It is a 
 pity that the delicate task of shaping the imagination of 
 children should be so often committed to ignorant and un- 
 principled nurses. The stories which children hear and are 
 allowed to tell, should be conceived by minds of the highest 
 order of imagination — chaste, refined, sparkling — they 
 should be in the main true to nature, should have complete- 
 ness and finish, should tend to invigorate all the mental 
 powers, and should always have a good moral. Such stories 
 can hardly fail to assist in developing and rightly directing 
 the youthful imagination. 
 
 Some object to all story-telling ; but this is an untenable 
 position. What they object to, meets a want in the men- 
 tal constitution. Unless children are allowed to hear and 
 repeat good stories, they will hear and repeat bad ones. 
 
 * Compend of English Literature, by C. D. Cleveland, p. 228. 
 
320 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Objecting to good stones, as a means of intellectual and 
 moral culture, is at variance with the usage of the Bible, 
 and with the laws of mind. 
 
 4. Solitary musing. Imagination is usually most 
 active when we are alone. Youth in the country have, in 
 this respect, some advantage over those in the bustle of 
 large cities. They are more alone with nature. Their 
 attention is less engrossed with the mere passing fashion 
 and parade of life. Rambling alone in the fields and groves, 
 sitting in solitude under the big elm, or by the side of the 
 stream, eyeing the ever changing phases of the earth and 
 the heavens, without a human being present to interrupt 
 the thoughts, can hardly fail to set the imagination at 
 work. 
 
 Not that it is well to be always alone with nature. This 
 would ultimately tend to mental derangement. It would 
 exalt the imaginative, at the expense of the social ; it would 
 tend to misanthropy. In his true state, man yearns for 
 some friend to participate of his wonder and joy. Yet soli- 
 tary musings, frequently practised, are of the greatest 
 advantage. They are almost as essential to the growth of 
 eminent literary genius, as to the growth of rich spiritual 
 piety. Without them, we as rarely find the one as the other. 
 
 5. Frequently practising imaginative composition. 
 The effort to embody our conceptions and give them a 
 permament form, puts the mind in a state of prolonged 
 tension, by which it rises to yet higher and fuller con- 
 ceptions. When we think we have a full conception of 
 an object or event, we often find, on attempting to describe 
 it, that our conception of it is very imperfect. Writing 
 helps the mind to fill up and perfect what it had begun 
 to imagine. Milton could never have drawn ' the full pic- 
 ture which he did, even in his own mind, without the aid 
 of the pen. Mental conceptions soon vanish away, fre- 
 quently leaving the mind much as they found it, unless 
 reduced by the pen to a permanent form. They then 
 become, as it were, the author's fixed capital, on which he 
 
QUESTIONS. 321 
 
 can fall back, and of which he can take advantage, in 
 making further acquisitions. It was thus that Bunyan 
 went on, step after step, in that wonderful work, which has 
 rendered his fame immortal. He did not dream, when he 
 began to write, how much he was going to accomplish ; but 
 as he wrote, the dream went on ; — sustained and ani- 
 mated by what he had done, his imagination wrought more 
 and more, until at last the production surprised both him- 
 self and all his readers. 
 
 Let the pupil be put to writing descriptions, allegories, 
 stories, such as will task his invention to the utmost, and 
 keep his imagination on steady and prolonged duty ; let 
 him not be discouraged at failure, but be thereby only 
 nerved to a firmer resolution to succeed ; and he will at 
 length have the satisfaction to find, not only that he can 
 call the spirits from their mighty deep, but that they will 
 come, when he calls them ! The most arduous and dis- 
 couraging effort, will result in the most triumphant and 
 cheering success. 
 
 Let the imagination be at an early age thus called up 
 and directed ; let it be continuously nurtured and trained, 
 with the same diligence which we bestow upon the reason- 
 ing powers ; and it will be redeemed from the inglorious 
 rank so often assigned it ; it will wholly cease to be what 
 it now too often is, a means of debasing and vitiating the 
 soul ; and it will become eminently subservient, not only to 
 literary and professional eminence, but to the most impor- 
 tant of all interests, — the interests of sound morality and 
 pure religion. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 Opening remarks ? Illustrations of reciprocity of action 1 How does 
 perverted imagination produce inordinate love of wealth ? Love of power 
 and fame ? What is said of youth in cities ? Vicious literature ? Ke- 
 marks on imagination rightly employed ? How does it aid the Chris- 
 
322 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 tian ? "What is said about discipline of the imagination ? What is 
 the great error 1 How should works of imagination be studied 1 Il- 
 lustrate the two ways of studying and admiring works of imagina- 
 tion. Remarks ? What is said of early attention to natural scenery 1 
 Of reading imaginative books'? Of hearing and telling stories? Of 
 solitary musing ? Of practising imaginative composition ? Final re- 
 marks ? 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 DREAMING. 
 
 Dreaming is a state of mind in which a part of its 
 functions are suspended. Sleep composes the mind to rest. 
 But this rest is not always perfect. The more restive of 
 the mental faculties sometimes continue awake, after the 
 others are composed. In absolutely profound sleep, that is, 
 a state in which all the mental faculties are entirely at rest, 
 there is of course no dreaming. 
 
 The involuntary functions of the body, in sleep, continue 
 their course much the same as when we are awake. The 
 heart beats, the blood flows, the lungs play, the organs of 
 digestion operate, all the involuntary functions go on, as at 
 other times, although with somewhat relaxed energy. With 
 these some of the mental faculties are more closely allied 
 than with others, and hence they are less easily suspended 
 by sleep. 
 
 Some suppose our mental activity is never entirely sus- 
 pended, and that only memory is wanting, on waking from 
 the profoundest sleep, to assure us that we have still been 
 dreaming. But this supposition seems to be gratuitous. 
 Our minds, in the present state, need repose — the more 
 perfect the better — nor does it appear that all our mental 
 powers do not more or less participate in it. Indeed, the 
 relative time in which we dream, is probably much less than 
 is usually supposed. Our dreams, when in health, are 
 
 MENTAL ACTIVITY MAY BE ENTIRELY SUSPENDED. 
 
324 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 mostly confined to a few moments after retiring, or, more 
 frequently, to a few moments in the morning, thus preceding 
 or following the hours of profound sleep. 
 
 WHAT FACULTIES ARE MOST ACTIVE IN DREAMING. 
 
 The faculties most active in dreaming are imagination 
 and the passions ; the more grave faculties of reason and 
 judgment being usually suspended. Hence the trains of 
 thought in sleeping are irregular and confused, like the 
 movements of a mutilated or disturbed machine. To vary 
 the illustration, the mind in dreaming is like a ship at sea 
 without a helm. Imagination spreads the sails, passion 
 fills them, but reason is wanting at the helm to guide. 
 Dreams are thus mostly made up of strange and confused 
 imaginings.* 
 
 THE LAWS OF ASSOCIATION CONTINUE TO OPERATE IN 
 DREAMS. 
 
 So far as we can judge, the succession of our thoughts, 
 in dreams, is regulated by the same laws of association as 
 when we are awake. The objects which most interest us 
 when awake, are those of which we are wont to dream. 
 The miser by day, is the miser by night ; his dreams are of 
 money gained and money lost. The dreams of the student, 
 whose thoughts when awake are with books and men of 
 learning, take their direction and character from these 
 objects. The dreams of the melancholy man are tinged 
 with his peculiar temperament ; whereas the man of cheer- 
 ful disposition, if in good health, has ordinarily pleasant 
 dreams. The shipmaster, after passing through perilous 
 storms, and the general, after engaging in bloody battles, 
 dreams of new perils and fresh encounters. 
 
 * Reverie is a kind of dreaming state, in which the rational will is not 
 entirely suspended, but yields itself up to the pleasing illusions of imagina- 
 tion. It is thus an approach towards dreaming. 
 
DREAMING. 325 
 
 " After having made a narrow escape from any alarming 
 danger, we are apt to awake, in the course of our sleep, 
 with sudden startings, imagining that we are drowning, or 
 on the brink of a precipice. A severe misfortune, which 
 has affected the mind deeply, influences our dreams in a 
 similar way, and suggests to us a variety of adventures, 
 analogous, in some measure, to that event from which our 
 distress arises. Such, according to Virgil, were the dreams 
 of the forsaken Dido." * 
 
 " Agit ipse furentem, 
 In somnis ferus .ZEneas ; semperque relinqui, 
 Sola sibi ; semper longam incomitata videtur, 
 Ire viam, et Tyrios deserta quserere terra." 
 
 SUSPENSION OF WILL IN DREAMING. 
 
 The most marked distinction between the succession of 
 our thoughts in dreaming and when awake, is in the fact, 
 that when awake our associations are under the control of the 
 rational will ; but when dreaming, this power of will is sus- 
 pended.! This is the explanation of the extravagance and 
 incoherence of our thoughts and conceptions. The sus- 
 pension of the will suspends, of course, the voluntary exer- 
 cises of reason, judgment, recollection, &c, thus leaving 
 the associations to run on unrestrained. We hence bound 
 in thought from one place to another, from one scene to 
 another, and often confound objects and events of very 
 remote realms and periods. Our associating power is as 
 active as ever, but the rational will is wanting to control it. 
 
 * Abercrombie's Intellectual Philosophy, p. 205. 
 
 t Somnambulism differs from ordinary sleep mainly in this, that the will 
 retains its control over the bodily members. The man not only imagines 
 himself walking, but actually walks. He labors under the same illusions 
 as in ordinary dreaming, but the sleep has not so much composed the 
 voluntary action of the body. 
 
 28 
 
326 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 REASONING IN SLEEP. 
 
 It is true, that we sometimes reason in sleep,* but this is 
 accounted for on the ground of association. Processes of 
 reasoning, to which we have become accustomed when 
 awake, will often go on spontaneously when we are dream- 
 ing. The man who never reasons when awake, never 
 reasons when asleep. Mathematicians have sometimes 
 solved problems in dreaming, which puzzled them when 
 awake. The explanation is, that having accustomed their 
 minds to such solutions, in the freedom from distraction 
 secured bj sleep, their associations spontaneously suggest 
 the solution in question. This is done without any effort of 
 the reasoning powers ; it is a pure spontaneity.f 
 
 I am acquainted with a preacher of the gospel, who was 
 commencing to write a sermon, when, under the influence 
 of headache, he dropped upon his bed and fell to dreaming 
 about the subject of his study. He audibly named his text, 
 and went through his sermon. His wife, being present, 
 took it down in short hand. The sermon was subsequently 
 written out and preached to his congregation, and was con- 
 sidered one of his most eloquent and effective discourses. 
 It was doubtless a train of thought with which he had 
 previously made his mind familiar, and in the composed 
 state secured by sleep, his association naturally called it up, 
 with perhaps more clearness and concentration than could 
 
 * "Dreaming persons sometimes reason better than they do when they 
 are awake. When we would reflect deeply upon any subject, we escape 
 from the noise of the world and external impressions, by covering our 
 eyes with the hands ; and putting a great number of organs to rest, we 
 endeavc* to concentrate all vital power in one or in several. In dream- 
 ing and in somnambulism this naturally happens ; the functions of the 
 active organs are then often more perfect and more energetic, the sensa- 
 tions more lively, and the reflections deeper than in the state of watch- 
 ing." Phrenology, by J. G. Sjmrzheim, M. D. Boston edition, 1834. 
 
 t When in college, I was once laboring upon a very difficult problem in 
 the higher mathematics, and not being able at the time to solve it, threw 
 myself down in anxious study upon a couch, and fell into a dreamy 
 state. In that state the solution occurred to me, and I awoke and readilv 
 solved the problem. 
 
DREAMING. 327 
 
 have been secured amidst the distractions of his wakeful 
 hours, by the exercise of his rational will. 
 
 " The following anecdote has been preserved in a family 
 of rank in Scotland, the descendants of a distinguished law- 
 yer of the last age. This eminent person had been con- 
 sulted respecting a case of great importance and much 
 difficulty ; and he had been studying it with intense anxiety 
 and attention. After several days had been occupied in 
 this manner, he was observed by his wife to rise from his 
 bed in the night and go to a writing-desk which stood in the 
 bed-room, He then sat down and wrote a long paper, 
 which he put carefully by in the desk, and returned to bed. 
 The following morning he told his wife that he had a most 
 interesting dream; that he had dreamed of delivering a 
 clear and luminous opinion respecting a case which had 
 exceedingly perplexed him ; and that he would give any 
 thing to recover the train of thought which had passed 
 before him in his dream. She then directed him to the 
 writing-desk, where he found the opinion clearly and fully 
 written out, and which was afterwards found to be perfectly 
 correct." * 
 
 DREAMS APPEAR TO BE REALITIES. 
 
 Owing to the suspension of our rational and perceptive 
 faculties, our dreams seem to be realities. Reason is not in 
 action to teach us otherwise ; neither does perception disa- 
 buse the mind of its errors, by placing before it the realities 
 of the external world. Hence dreaming places one in a 
 very interesting predicament. The admonitions of the 
 external world withdrawn, imagination turned loose, the 
 mind is abandoned to the wildest suggestions of a headlong 
 association ; and whatever is thus dreamed, has all the 
 importance of reality. The most ridiculous forms, the most 
 absurd anachronisms, the most contradictory conceits, are 
 not too extravagant to pass with the wisest philosopher for 
 sober verities. 
 
 * Abercrombie's Philosophy, p. 216. 
 
328 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Such strange work does dreaming make with the mind. 
 It places the learned and the ignorant, the wise and the 
 simple, the rich and the poor, upon the same level. They 
 may feast together at the king's table, or expatiate together 
 amid the glories of creation, or pine together in dungeons ; 
 and to all are these dreams alike realities. 
 
 IMPERFECT ESTIMATE OF TIME AND SPACE IN DREAMING. 
 
 That our estimate of time and space in dreaming is so 
 imperfect, is owing to the same cause to which we have 
 referred in the above phenomena. Imagination, unguided 
 by reason, being hurried from scene to scene, by the mere 
 impulses of a blind association, confounds times, places, 
 events, widely separated ; and often condenses into a few 
 moments the events of years. Something like this is realized 
 in scenic exhibitions, where imagination takes the reins, and 
 the sober calculations of reason are set aside. It is not 
 strange, therefore, that in such a state of mind as we have 
 denned dreaming, this should be realized to perfection. 
 The events of weeks and months are crowded into moments. 
 We cross seas, explore distant continents, and return to our 
 homes, all within the few moments of time that precede our 
 rising from the morning pillow, after the profound slumbers 
 of the night are ended. 
 
 " Dr. Gregory mentions a gentleman, who, after sleeping 
 in a damp place, was for a long time liable to a feeling of 
 suffocation whenever he slept in a lying posture ; and this 
 was always accompanied by a dream of a skeleton, which 
 grasped him violently by the throat. He could sleep in a 
 sitting posture without any uneasy feeling ; and after trying 
 various expedients, he at last had a sentinel placed beside 
 him, with orders to awake him whenever he sunk dow 7 n. 
 On one occasion he was attacked by the skeleton, and a 
 severe and long struggle ensued before he awoke. On find- 
 ing fault with his attendant, for allowing him to lie so long 
 in such a state of suffering, he was assured that he had not 
 lain an instant, but had been awakened the moment he 
 began to sink." 
 
DREAMING. 329 
 
 " A friend of mine dreamed that he crossed the Atlantic 
 and spent a fortnight in America. In embarking, on hi3 
 return, he fell into the sea; and, having awoke with the 
 fright, discovered that he had not been asleep above ten 
 minutes." * 
 
 DREAMS RECALL THINGS FORGOTTEN. 
 
 Every person has observed, that he sometimes dreams of 
 things long since gone from his mind. This also is accounted 
 for by the same cause as above. We remember mostly by 
 means of association. When the reasoning powers are at 
 rest, our association flies, unguided, from one thing to ano- 
 ther, influenced only by those feelings of interest, which 
 may have been at any period awakened. Hence, a certain 
 mental predisposition may at any time lead to a recognition 
 of things long since forgotten, merely by the coincidence 
 between the present state of the mind and the feelings 
 which they inspired at the time of their occurrence. Thus 
 the wrecked and storm-beaten mariner dreams of forgotten 
 incidents of childhood, in connection with his mother, — his 
 mother, to whom he was once accustomed to fly in trouble, — 
 trouble, exciting feelings like the present. 
 
 Our associations operate by contrast, as well as resem- 
 blance, no less in dreaming than when awake ; hence, the 
 man pining with hunger, in a desert, dreams of feasting 
 again at a table, at which he had eaten long before, and 
 which he had ceased to remember. Old people often dream 
 of incidents in their childhood, of which they had not thought 
 for many years. 
 
 DREAMS FROM BODILY SENSATION. 
 
 Most men have experienced the effects of certain bodily 
 sensations upon dreams. An empty stomach occasions 
 dreams of food, and of eating or attempting to eat ; while 
 
 * Abercrombie's Philosophy, p. 202. 
 
 28* 
 
830 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 recent or undigested food in the stomach, causing a sensa- 
 tion of oppression, leads to various unpleasant dreams, — as 
 of being confined under a weight, struggling to escape from 
 danger, or laboring ineffectually to accomplish some work.* 
 
 In Abercrombie's Philosophy, are furnished the following 
 illustrations of this law. " Dr. Gregory mentions that, 
 having on one occasion gone to bed with a vessel of hot 
 water at his feet, he dreamed of walking up the crater of 
 Mount Etna, and of feeling the ground warm under him. 
 He had at an early period of his life visited Mount Vesuvius, 
 and actually felt a strong sensation of warmth in his feet 
 when walking up the side of the crater ; but it was remark- 
 able that the dream was not of Vesuvius, but of Etna, of 
 which he had only read Brydon's description. This was 
 probably from the latter impression being the most recent. 
 On another occasion he dreamed of spending a winter at 
 Hudson's Bay, and of suffering much distress from the 
 intense frost. He found that he had thrown off the bed- 
 clothes in his sleep ; and, a few days before, he had been 
 reading a very particular account of the state of the colonies 
 in that country during winter. Again, when suffering from 
 toothache, he dreamed of undergoing the operation of tooth- 
 drawing, with the additional circumstance that the operator 
 drew a sound tooth, leaving the aching one in its place. 
 
 " But the most striking anecdote in this interesting docu- 
 ment is one in which similar dreams were produced in a 
 gentleman and his wife, at the same time, and by the same 
 cause. It happened at the period when there was an alarm 
 of French invasion, and almost every man in Edinburgh was 
 a soldier. All things had been arranged in expectation of 
 the landing of an enemy ; the first notice of which was to 
 be given by a gun from the castle, and this was to be fol- 
 lowed by a chain of signals calculated to alarm the country 
 
 * Incubus, or nightmare, is usually occasioned by indigestible food in the 
 stomach, or by a sluggish circulation. It is characterized by a conscious- 
 ness of an entire want of power over our bodily members, and is generally 
 in connection with some unfavorable posture. I knew an aged gentle- 
 man who was in the habit of occasionally indulging, just before retiring, 
 an appetite for a certain preparation of cheese. This seldom failed to pro- 
 duce incubus, in which he was found lying upon his back in the greatest 
 distress, without the power of moving a finger. 
 
DREAMING. 331 
 
 in all directions. Further, there had been recently in 
 Edinburgh a splendid military spectacle, in which five thou- 
 sand men had been drawn up in Prince's street, fronting 
 the castle. The gentleman to whom the dream occurred, 
 and who had been a most zealous volunteer, was in bed 
 between two and three o'clock in the morning, when he 
 dreamed of hearing a signal gun. He was immediately at 
 the castle, witnessed the proceedings for displaying the 
 signals, and saw and heard a great bustle over the town 
 from troops and artillery assembling, especially in Prince's 
 street. At this time he was roused by his wife, who awoke 
 in a fright in consequence of a similar dream, connected 
 with much noise and the landing of an enemy, and conclud- 
 ing with the death of a particular friend of her husband's, 
 who had served with him as a volunteer during the late war. 
 The origin of this remarkable concurrence was ascertained, 
 in the morning, to be the noise produced in the room above 
 by the fall of a pair of tongs, which had been left in some 
 very awkward position in support of a clothes-screen. 
 
 "Dr.Reid relates of himself, that the dressing applied after 
 a blister on his head having become ruffled so as to produce 
 considerable uneasiness, he dreamed of falling into the hands 
 of savages and being scalped by them." * 
 
 Such cases are easily accounted for on the same principle 
 as those above. The absence of reason and judgment leaves 
 imagination to all the natural workings of its spontaneity, 
 suggested by these bodily sensations. If only imagination 
 is to decide, the dressing of a blister on the head might as 
 naturally be referred to the operation of a scalping-knife, 
 as to its true cause. Some incident in history, or some 
 conversation, perhaps forgotten, revived in dreaming, would 
 turn the associations in that direction. The case of coinci- 
 dent dreaming of the man and his wife, is clearly this. 
 Their sympathies, thoughts, associations, ivere all enlisted 
 in the same direction, and their imaginations excited by the 
 same external cause. There was precisely the same differ- 
 ence in their dreams, which we should expect, — the husband 
 going forth to the action ; the wife remaining at home, and 
 being afflicted with the death of a friend. 
 
 * Abercrombie's Philosophy, p. 200. 
 
332 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ARE DREAMS EVER PROPHETIC? 
 
 That dreams have sometimes been made prophetic by 
 God, when giving special revelations to man, is admitted by 
 all who believe in the divine authority of the Bible. But 
 the question respects the present time. I suppose that 
 those dreams which are so fulfilled as to have a prophetic 
 aspect, may be accounted for on natural principles. 
 
 In the first place, there may be a casual coincidence 
 between the dream and the event, without any divine inter- 
 position. In the second place, the causes which led to the 
 dream may conspire to produce the event. A man dreams 
 of committing murder some time before he perpetrates the 
 crime, because the elements of murder are already at work 
 in his mind. A man dreams of meeting friends and of 
 enjoying a delightful interview with them, long before the 
 event is actually realized, because the event is in antici- 
 pation. 
 
 A man prostrate with rheumatism and under the influ- 
 ence of severe pains, dreamed that his servant cut a quan- 
 tity of hemlock boughs, steeped them in water, and applied 
 them hot to the diseased parts, and thus effected a cure. 
 The next day he employed his servant to perform this 
 service, with entire faith in the result, and the result was a 
 cure, as he had dreamed. He had doubtless heard of the 
 efficacy of this article in cases of rheumatism ; — this led to 
 the dream, and the dream suggested the steps towards its 
 fulfilment, which faith contributed to the result. In all 
 such cases, the thoughts and emotions which lead to the 
 dream arise from the causes, and are themselves among the 
 causes conspiring to their fulfilment. 
 
 The following fact is mentioned by Dr. Abercrombie, and 
 his explanation of it seems sound and rational. " A clergy- 
 man had come to this city (Edinburgh) from a short dis- 
 tance in the country, and was stopping at an inn, when he 
 dreamed of seeing a fire, and one of his children in the 
 midst of it. He awoke with the impression, and instantly 
 left town on his return home. When he arrived within sight 
 of his house, he found it on fire, and got there in time to 
 
DREAMING. 333 
 
 assist in saving one of his children, who, in the alarm and 
 confusion, had been left in a situation of danger. Without 
 calling in question the possibility of supernatural communi- 
 cation in such cases, this striking occurrence, of which I 
 believe there is little reason to doubt the truth, may per- 
 haps be accounted for on simple and rational principles. Let 
 us suppose, that the gentleman had a servant who had shown 
 great carelessness in regard to fire, and had often given 
 rise in his mind to a strong apprehension that she might set 
 fire to his house. His anxiety might be increased by being 
 from home, and the same circumstance might make the 
 servant still more careless. Let us farther suppose that the 
 gentleman, before going to bed, had, in addition to this anx- 
 iety, suddenly recollected that there was on that day, in the 
 neighborhood of his house, some fair or periodical merry- 
 making, from which the servant was very likely to return 
 home in a state of intoxication. It was most natural that 
 these impressions should be embodied into a dream of his 
 house being on fire, and that the same circumstances might 
 lead to the dream being fulfilled." 
 
 NO NEW SIMPLE IDEAS IN DREAMS. 
 
 It seems to be a well settled fact, that however compli- 
 cated and novel the combinations of ideas in dreams, there 
 are yet no other elemental or simple ideas, than those ob- 
 tained when awake by conversation and reflection. A man 
 dreams of seeing a glass mountain : — he has never actually 
 seen that object, when awake, but he has seen glass, and 
 he has seen a mountain. His imagination in dreaming 
 combines these, and thus creates a glass mountain. He 
 dreams of strange animals, and of various frightful or splen- 
 did scenes, such as his wakeful moments never even 
 conceived : but on examination they are found to be made 
 up of elemental ideas, obtained in the natural way when 
 awake. 
 
 As dreams thus depend on our perceptions, and our per- 
 ceptions of visible things are the most vivid, our dreams are 
 i mostly conversant with objects of sight. We seldom hear, 
 
334 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 taste, smell, in dreaming, unless something is at the time 
 addressed to the senses. If a man in dreaming hears thun- 
 der, or the report of a gun, or cries of distress, or sweet 
 music, it is usually in connection with some noise within or 
 near the house. If he dreams of tasting unsavory or deli- 
 cious food, it is because of some disagreeable or agreeable 
 taste actually in his mouth. If he dreams of sweet or 
 unpleasant odors, there is usually something about him to 
 occasion this sensation. 
 
 One of the most pleasing circumstances connected with 
 serenades, is, that as the music breaks upon our ears while 
 we are asleep, we often enjoy its effects in producing a kind 
 of brilliant dream, before entire wakefulness dispels the 
 illusion. 
 
 CONCLUDING REMARKS ON DREAMING. 
 
 I conclude, that all the phenomena of dreaming are refer- 
 able to the same general cause, — the suspension of some 
 of the mental faculties. According as the faculties are 
 more are less suspended, and their action modified by inci- 
 dental circumstances, dreams will vary. There seems to be 
 no more mystery connected with our dreaming than with our 
 wakeful hours. We clearly trace, in each, the working of 
 the same mind, according to the same laws of mental 
 operation. 
 
 But dreams are on the whole undesirable. They imply 
 an imperfect state of rest. Pleasant dreams are less ex- 
 hausting than unpleasant ones, but even such were better 
 dispensed with. We do others no good by our dreams ; 
 neither do we ordinarily benefit ourselves. It is the perfect 
 rest of dreamless sleef), from which we awake most refreshed. 
 Every person should therefore endeavor to avoid dreaming. 
 The habit of dreaming may be usually corrected, by observ- 
 ing the following rules. 
 
 1. Retire to rest at suitable and uniform periods after 
 eating ; so that there may be neither the sensation of hun- 
 ger nor of oppression at the stomach. Very many dreams 
 are occasioned by taking food too near the time of retiring. 
 
QUESTIONS. 335 
 
 2. On going to bed, throw off all care, and compose the 
 mind to sleep as soon as possible. To lie awake anxiously 
 thinking, will almost certainly lead to dreaming. 
 
 3. Promptly rise in the morning at the first wakening. 
 Dreams occur mostly in the morning, after nature has ob- 
 tained her needed rest. The sleep then obtained is forced 
 and unsound, tending to exhaust the nervous system, and 
 produce dreams on the following night. 
 
 4. Avoid telling your dreams. The more you make of 
 them, the more troublesome they will become. Neglect 
 them, and they will neglect you. The man who tells his 
 dreams on awaking in the morning, will scarcely fail to 
 dream again on the following nights. 
 
 By taking appropriate food and exercise, retiring and 
 rising at suitable hours, maintaining a cheerful temper, and 
 never paying any attention to what is dreamed, the habit of 
 dreaming may be usually corrected, and that perfect sound- 
 ness of sleep secured, which is so conducive to health and 
 long life. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 What is dreaming 1 What functions continue their course ? Re- 
 marks 1 What do some suppose, as to the suspension of our mental 
 activity 1 What reply to this % What faculties most active in dreaming ? 
 Explain. Do the laws of association continue to operate in dreams'? 
 How shown 1 What is the most marked distinction between the succes- 
 sion of our thoughts in dreaming and when awake ? Of what is this 
 the explanation ? Do we reason in sleep ? How accounted for ? Illus- 
 trate. What is said of a preacher % Anecdote from a family in Scotland 1 
 Do dreams seem to be realities ? Why 1 What strange work does 
 dreaming make with the mind 1 What is said of our estimate of time and 
 space in dreaming 1 Illustrations ? Dr. Gregory's fact 1 Do dreams re- 
 call things forgotten ? How explained % What is said of contrast ? 
 Illustrate. Of dreams from bodily sensations 1 Instances cited from Dr. 
 Gregory "? Reid's personal fact ? Explain these cases. Are dreams pro- 
 
336 
 
 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 phetic "? What is said of apparently prophetic dreams, in the first place 1 
 In the second place ? Illustrations ? Case of the man prostrate with 
 rheumatism ? Fact and explanation by Abercrombie ? Have we any 
 new simple ideas in dreams 1 Explain. With what objects are our dreams 
 most conversant ? Illustrate. What is one of the most pleasing circum- 
 stances connected with serenades? Concluding remarks ? What is said 
 of the undesirableness of dreams ? First rule for avoiding them 1 Second ? 
 Third ? Fourth ? State the whole together, with concluding remark. 
 
 , 
 
PART IV. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 INSANITY. 
 
 Having examined the intellectual powers in those de- 
 velopments which may be considered normal or regular r 
 let us devote some time to those phenomena, which may be 
 considered abnormal or irregular. They are mental acts 
 more or less extraordinary, being the result of disease, or of 
 peculiar occasional causes from without. They may be con- 
 sidered under the following heads, — Insanity, Mesmerism,- 
 Apparent Death, and Trance. We will begin with the first. 
 
 Insanity always implies a diseased state of mind. 
 Diseases of the mind, as well as of the body, belong most 
 properly to medical treatises, and for obvious reasons it is in- 
 expedient to portray, at length, causes of mental derange- 
 ment, for the indiscriminate perusal of the young. I shall 
 therefore be brief upon this subject. 
 
 wherein dreaming and insanity are alike. 
 
 Dreaming and insanity are analogous, in these two 
 respects ; — in both, the mind's imaginings are mistaken for 
 realities ; and in both, the thoughts succeed each other as sug- 
 gested by associations, uncontrolled by the rational will. Thus, 
 Dr. Abercrombie, whose authority is very good on this sub- 
 29 
 
338 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 ject, remarks, — " It appears then, that there is a remarka- 
 ble analogy between the mental phenomena in insanity and 
 in dreaming ; and that the leading peculiarities of both these 
 conditions are referable to two heads : — 
 
 1. The impressions which arise in the mind are believed 
 to be real and present existences, and this belief is not cor- 
 rected by comparing the conception with the actual state of 
 things in the external world. 
 
 2. The chains of ideas or images which arise, follow one 
 another according to certain associations over which the 
 individual has no control ; he cannot, as in a healthy state, 
 vary the series or stop it at his will." * 
 
 WHEREIN DREAMING AND INSANITY DIFFER. 
 
 :r Dreaming and insanity are essentially different, in the 
 following respects : — 
 
 1. In dreaming, a part of the mental faculties are in a 
 state of rest ; in insanity, they are in a state of diseased 
 action. Hence the former is transient ; the latter perma- 
 nent. As the former results from only a dormant state of 
 some of the faculties of a sound mind, we only need to arouse 
 them to service, to restore the balance of mental action ; 
 but, as the latter implies a diseased state, the rousing up of 
 the faculties no more restores sane action to the mind, than 
 the waking up of a sick man restores health to his body. 
 
 2. In dreaming, we are ordinarily insensible to the objects 
 around us. The eyes are usually closed, and all the other 
 organs of perception are composed to rest. But in cases of 
 insanity, there is ordinarily a high degree of sensibility in 
 relation to surrounding objects and events. Indeed the per- 
 ceptions of insane persons are often remarkably keen. All 
 who have been conversant with them, must have noticed how 
 quick a word, a look, an action, even a cautious whisper, 
 is by them perceived and interpreted. 
 
 Some have supposed that in the higher states of disease, 
 the subject becomes insensible, as in dreaming, to external 
 
 * Intellectual Philosophy, p. 226. 
 
INSANITY. 339 
 
 objects. Thus, Dr. Abercrombie says, " In the higher 
 states, or what we call perfect mania, we see them exem- 
 plified in the same complete manner as in dreaming. The 
 maniac fancies himself a king possessed of boundless power, 
 and surrounded by every form of earthly splendor ; and with 
 all his bodily senses in their perfect exercise, this hallucina- 
 tion is in no degree corrected by the sight of his bed of 
 straw and all the horrors of his cell." * But there is still 
 this difference : — In dreaming, the subject takes no notice 
 of surrounding objects ; in the mania supposed, the subject 
 notices the bed of straw and the cell, but his disordered im- 
 agination transforms them to a throne and a palace. The 
 idea that maniacs are insensible to surrounding objects, has 
 often led to a neglect of their external condition. The 
 " bed of straw and all the horrors of his cell " is what no ma- 
 niac should be subjected to : an imagination transforming 
 them into circumstances of power and splendor, is the rare 
 portion of the few triumphantly intent on making the best 
 of their wretchedness. 
 
 MONOMANIA. 
 
 One of the most common forms of insanity, is that in 
 which the mind is diseased in reference to one particular 
 subject, and sound in reference to all others. This is what 
 the name imports, monomania. It is no uncommon thing 
 for men to become highly nervous, or excitable, on one par- 
 ticular subject. It is perhaps one on which their feelings 
 have been much tried, or in which they have a special inter- 
 est. Disappointed lovers ; misers, who have met with severe 
 losses ; ardent philanthropists, who have been thwarted in 
 their prospects of reform ; men severely tried in their relig- 
 ious experience ; persons under deep affliction ; — are all 
 very liable to this disordered mental action. Where the ex- 
 citement becomes intense and absorbing, so that the one 
 impression controls the mind, despite of reason, it is mono- 
 mania. The proper balance of mind, in reference to a 
 
 * Intellectual Philosophy, p. 226. 
 
340 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 particular subject, is lost. The line between that eccentri- 
 city, or oncideaism, as some have termed it, which merely 
 magnifies a subject above its relative importance, and real 
 monomania, is not distinctly drawn ; the one gradually 
 merges into the other. 
 
 In cases of decided monomania, the victim of the disease 
 usually continues to be morbidly excited upon one and the 
 same subject, and sane upon all others, until the restoration 
 of health, or the close of life. But sometimes the hallucina- 
 tion changes from one subject to another. A man mentioned 
 by some medical authority, was haunted several years with 
 the idea of being poisoned ; — his hallucination became sud- 
 denly changed ; he imagined himself lord of the world, and 
 enjoyed the pleasing illusion until death. This seems to be 
 accounted for on the principle of re-action. When the mind 
 had been long pressed to an extreme point in one direction, 
 it sometimes vibrates and passes to an opposite extreme. 
 
 ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF INSANITY. 
 
 Insanity usually first discovers itself by some slight devia- 
 tions from the ordinary mental action. The subject is 
 unusually depressed, light-minded, absent, or irritable. He 
 begins, perhaps, to labor under some illusion. He imagines 
 that some person has attempted to poison him, or to injure 
 his character or property. He becomes exceedingly jealous 
 and suspicious, and sometimes revengeful. At other times, 
 his imagination presents a pleasing picture ; — he fancies 
 himself about to be promoted to distinction and wealth, and 
 embarks in visionary projects. His friends notice these 
 things with surprise, and begin to blame and rebuke him, 
 not as yet suspecting the true cause. The disorder goes 
 gradually on, until at length it developes itself in actions so 
 decidedly irrational as to unmask the disease. 
 
 The fact that insanity usually advances slowly, is very 
 important, as serving to assist in detecting both the inci- 
 pient stages of the disease, and also pretensions to it. When 
 a person exhibits symptoms of insanity, immediately after 
 being detected in some crime, without having previously 
 
INSANITY. 841 
 
 exhibited the same, or something approaching them, his case 
 is very suspicious. 
 
 There may be sudden derangements of mind from a fall, 
 or fright, the death of a friend, or a fever ; — these are not 
 usually chronic, are clearly traced to their cause, and there- 
 fore form no serious exception to the above remark. 
 
 PECULIAR CHARACTER OF INSANITY. 
 
 " The peculiar character of insanity," says Dr. Abercrom- 
 bie, " in all its modifications, appears to be, that a certain 
 impression has fixed itself upon the mind in such a manner 
 as to exclude others ; or to exclude them from that influence 
 which they ought to have on the mind, in its estimate of the 
 relations of things. This impression may be entirely vision- 
 ary and unfounded ; or it may be in itself true, but distorted 
 in the application which the unsound mind makes of it, and 
 the consequences which are deduced from it. Thus a man 
 of wealth fancies himself a beggar, and in danger of dying 
 of hunger. Another takes up the same impression who has, 
 in fact, sustained some considerable loss. In the one, the 
 impression is entirely visionary, like that which might occur 
 in a dream ; in the other, it is a real and true impression, 
 carried to consequences which it does not warrant." * 
 
 Insanity is also perhaps always characterized by an un- 
 usual stupor, or a greatly increased activity of mind, or 
 more commonly by the alternations of both. The former is 
 an approach to idiocy ; the latter, to something superhuman. 
 The latter is by far the more common. Imagination be- 
 comes exceedingly fertile ; memory quick and exact ; con- 
 ception rapid ; and comparisons are made and inferences 
 drawn, right or wrong, with wonderful readiness. Persons 
 of ordinary parts have, in such paroxysms of insanity, sur- 
 prised their friends by the exhibition of genius. 
 
 But such mental fervors are at the expense of permanent 
 intellectual vigor, and even of life. Persons liable to periodi- 
 cal attacks of insanity, have sometimes even anticipated them 
 
 * Intellectual Philosophy, p. 250. 
 29* 
 
342 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 with impatience, on account of the pleasure afforded by 
 the preternatural excitement. But in most cases the pain 
 immeasurably surpasses the pleasure ; and in all cases there 
 is a rapid wearing down of the mental energies, and hasten- 
 ing towards the destruction of all that renders life desirable. 
 In every view, we must consider insanity amongst the great- 
 est of all earthly calamities ; and instead of filling our 
 pages with its painful and startling pictures, I may perhaps 
 more profitably conclude the chapter with some account of its 
 causes and preventives. I shall notice them together. 
 
 Among the causes of insanity, the following are most pro- 
 minent. 
 
 1. Hereditary tendency. A predisposition to this dis- 
 ease seems to follow some families through several generations. 
 This has been especially noticed among families, who had 
 long been in the habit of marrying among themselves. 
 Where the children of brothers or sisters, or others nearly 
 related by blood, intermarry, evil tendencies on either side, 
 instead of being counteracted, as in cross-marrying, are per- 
 petuated and increased. Consumption, sterility, idiocy, 
 and insanity, are all more or less inclined to follow these 
 unnatural affiances. The prevention therefore, in this case, 
 is obvious. But where persons have themselves actually 
 inherited the predisposition in question, it may be much 
 counteracted and resisted, by observing the directions that 
 will be given subsequently. 
 
 2. All kinds of vice. All kinds of vice tend to 
 derange the mental functions ; but those most directly 
 tending to insanity are intemperance and licentiousness. 
 The statistics of insane hospitals prove, that a very large 
 proportion of their inmates have become such, by one or 
 both of these vices. By irritating and exhausting the nervous 
 system, producing chronic inflammation of the brain, prostrat- 
 ing the digestive functions, and impairing the mental ener- 
 gies, they lead to the utter dethronement of reason. 
 
 Here again the prevention is at hand ; — let every youth, 
 as he would be safe from this terrible disease, be ever strictly 
 temperate and virtuous. Many a youth has destroyed him- 
 
INSANITY. 343 
 
 self by secret vices, long before his parents or guardians 
 suspected them. It should be remembered that the effect 
 in question does not follow the vice immediately, but often 
 after succeeding months and years. 
 
 3. Novel reading. Many imaginative youth, particu- 
 larly of the more delicate sex, have brought upon themselves 
 a nervousness resulting in insanity, by an indiscreet and 
 absorbing devotion to fictitious tales. By exalting the imag- 
 ination to a region of exciting fiction, in which the reali- 
 ties of life are neglected, the proper mental balance is finally 
 lost. Fancies, dreams, illusions — all the maniac forms of 
 hallucination — naturally follow. One of the most interest- 
 ing and accomplished young ladies of a certain place not 
 distant, became excessively devoted to novels. Without the 
 knowledge of her parents, she was in the habit of sitting up 
 in her chamber and poring over them, long after the family 
 had retired. On one morning she discovered some flighti- 
 ness of mind at breakfast. The next morning it was repeat- 
 ed, with some other eccentricities. The father, who was a 
 physician, mistrusted something wrong ; and on inquiry, 
 learned the course his daughter had been pursuing. But it 
 was too late. She soon became a confirmed maniac, and 
 has been for several years in an insane hospital, without 
 the least prospect of being ever removed from it but by 
 death. Several somewhat similar instances have fallen 
 under the limited observation of the writer. 
 
 Here, again, the prevention is plain. The reading of 
 fiction should be restricted within narrow and cautious 
 limits, and where there is the least tendency to insanity, 
 the mind should be kept as familiar as possible with the 
 sober but cheerful realities and duties of life, and as much 
 removed as possible from ivhatever unduly excites the 
 imagination. 
 
 4. Overworking- the brain. Students, professional 
 men, inventors, merchants in times of pressure, and all men 
 intensely and anxiously employing their minds upon any sub- 
 ject of study, are liable to exhaust the intellectual nerve 
 and bring on permanent mental derangement. The first 
 
344 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 scholar in the writer's class in college, became insane from 
 too severe application to study. He has since died in a 
 lunatic asylum. Cases of insanity among gentlemen of the 
 several professions, particularly those of law and divinity, 
 resulting from overtaxing the brain, are familiar to all. 
 
 There is also a class of persons highly ingenious, whose 
 minds are intensely occupied with inventions of machinery, 
 who are particularly liable to insanity. The perpetual and 
 absorbing study of profound and intricate problems, gradu- 
 ally exhausts the brain. It has also appeared from the 
 statistics of our asylums that, after seasons of great financial 
 pressure and disaster, not a few of their unhappy inmates 
 have been furnished from gentlemen in mercantile business. 
 
 In all these cases, to know the cause is to know the 
 prevention. All men, whose pursuits lead to great mental 
 effort, should advance cautiously. There is scarcely a limit 
 to the power of mental action, provided it be approached 
 gradually. The mind gathers firmness and strength, as it 
 advances ; but unduly pressed, especially in its earlier 
 stages, it may lose its balance forever. 
 
 5. Religious melancholy. When the mind is for a 
 long time in a state of deep anxiety and gloom in respect to 
 religion, it is very liable to become permanently deranged. 
 Some decided cases of this description have fallen under 
 my observation. The wife of a distinguished lawyer, 
 devoted to gaiety and fashion, became depressed and 
 gloomy in consequence of many of her gay friends becoming 
 religious. At length she quite withdrew from society, and 
 for several weeks remained at home in a state of deep 
 despondency. One night she took the keys of the several 
 closets and other apartments of her house, and after putting 
 things in order locked them up and delivered the keys to 
 the servant, with the declared intention of going on a jour- 
 ney the next day. The next morning she awoke with 
 decided symptoms of insanity. She was under a course of 
 treatment for that disease about two years, at her own 
 dwelling. One morning, on awaking, she arose and dressed 
 herself, went to the room of her servant, and demanded the 
 keys. She imagined that she had just returned from her 
 
INSANITY. 345 
 
 intended journey. From that moment, her symptoms of 
 insanity disappeared ; she became perfectly well, and lived 
 many years a devoted Christian. 
 
 Another lady, after a long period of deep religions gloom, 
 fell a victim to the illusion that she had committed the un- 
 pardonable sin. On this point, her mind became perfectly 
 insane. No reasoning could convince her, no light from 
 Heaven could irradiate the dark chamber of her mind. 
 She kneio that she was to be lost, and it was in vain to do 
 any thing for her. She described the horrors of perdition 
 with a boldness and power of imagery seldom equalled, and 
 concluded by saying, " This is all to be my portion." 
 
 A course of judicious medical treatment, with subsequent 
 journeying and change of scenery and employment, dispelled 
 the illusion and restored the mental balance. She is still 
 living, a very devoted and useful Christian. 
 
 There is now, in one of our asylums, a man suffering 
 under the idea that his soul is in perdition. Some years 
 since he resisted very strong religious convictions, and at 
 length became gloomy, and at last insane. Converse with 
 him on most other subjects, and he appears much as men do 
 in sound mind ; but the moment any allusion is made to his 
 spiritual condition, he is in the greatest conceivable distress, 
 declaring that the miseries of perdition have taken hold of 
 him. 
 
 The prevention of such unhappy cases is to be found, not 
 in putting religion aside ; for the religious wants of man 
 will rebel against this, and take occasion from it to induce 
 the deeper gloom ; but to bring Christianity to bear fully 
 upon the mind, with all her healing and gracious power. 
 If the mind is actually diseased, other remedies should not 
 be wanting. But the testimony of our most distinguished 
 physicians, conversant with this subject, is decisive to the 
 point, that such are the moral wants of the soul, that Chris- 
 tianity, contemplated in its true character and bearings, is 
 among the most important of all means, both for the preven- 
 tion and cure of insanity. Hence the reading of the 
 Scriptures and a system of chaplaincy, are becoming a part 
 of the curative system of our lunatic asylums. 
 
 Other causes of insanity, such as gambling, frequent 
 
346 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 theatre-going, dissipating amusements continued late at 
 night, jealousies and disappointments in matters of love, are 
 familiar to most, and their prevention is obvious. In gene- 
 ral, the saneness of our intellect is mostly at our own 
 disposal; and a wise regard to the preventives of insanity, 
 might save thousands from that dreadful calamity into which 
 they are rushing. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 What is insanity? Wherein are dreaming and insanity alike? Re- 
 marks of Dr. Abercrombie 1 First particular in which dreaming and 
 insanity differ? Second? What have some supposed respecting the 
 higher states of the disease ? What says Abercrombie ? Answer to him 1 
 What is monomania ? Examples 1 What is said of cases of decided 
 monomania? How does insanity usually first discover itself ? Explain. 
 What importance to the fact that insanity advances slowly ? Any excep- 
 tions to the fact 1 What is the peculiar character of insanity 1 What is 
 said of insanity being characterized by stupor or increased activity of 
 mind ? Remarks 1 First mentioned cause of insanity ? In what families 
 is it especially noticed ? Remarks ? Second cause 1 Remarks 1 Pre- 
 vention ? Third cause ? How explained ? Instance cited ? Prevention % 
 Fourth cause 1 Illustrations ? What is said of highly ingenious minds ? 
 What has appeared from the statistics of asylums ? Fifth cause ? Exam- 
 ple ? Instance of another lady ? Another instance 1 The prevention ? 
 To what point is the best medical testimony ? Concluding remark ? 
 
CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 MESMERISM. 
 
 In a recent distinguished work on Human Physiology, 
 the learned author says, " It appears that the time has now 
 come, when a tolerably definite opinion may be formed 
 regarding a large number of the phenomena commonly 
 ncluded in the term Mesmerism. Notwithstanding the 
 exposures of various pretenders, which have taken place 
 from time to time, there remains a considerable mass of 
 phenomena, which cannot be so readily disposed of, and 
 which appears to have as just a title to the attention of 
 scientific physiologists, as that which is possessed by any 
 other class of well-ascertained facts." * 
 
 OPINIONS OF SCIENTIFIC MEN. 
 
 The most that is usually admitted on this subject, by the 
 more cautious men of science, is, that a state of coma, more 
 or less profound and peculiar, may be produced by titillation. 
 That the gentle passage of one's hands over another's head, 
 or any agreeable and soothing action upon the person, tends 
 to compose the nervous system and induce sleep, is within 
 the experience of all. And it is observed that some are 
 
 * Principles of Human Physiology, by William B. Carpenter, M. D., 
 F. R. S., 3?. G. S., Examiner in Physiology in the University of London, 
 &c. &c., p. 731. This is the most recent and comprehensive work on Phy- 
 siology, comprising the best authorities and most important discoveries 
 down to the present time. 
 
348 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 much more subject to such influences than others. While 
 persons of iron nerve can be scarcely affected in this way, 
 persons of feeble nerve can sometimes be put to sleep with 
 ease. But even among persons the most sensitive, there is 
 a wide difference ; some being morbidly wakeful, others 
 morbidly disposed to coma. This influence may be sometimes 
 exerted without contact. By a gentle movement of the 
 fingers, at a little distance from the head and arms of the 
 patient, a kind of magnetic influence is made to pass from 
 the operator upon him. 
 
 WHAT MESMERISM CLAIMS TO DO. 
 
 But modern mesmerism claims to do more. How much 
 was actually done or claimed by him whose name it bears, 
 is a matter of some question, not important here. As advo- 
 cated at the present time, it claims that mesmerizers acquire 
 such power over some mesmerized persons, that the minds 
 of the latter become, in their operations, identified with 
 those of the former, — so as to think, imagine, desire, love, 
 hate, suffer, enjoy, choose, only as the former will: and 
 more than this, that the mesmerized subject may be put into 
 what is called a clairvoyant state, — a state in which he not 
 only thinks and feels as he is willed to do, but actually sees 
 and reveals distant objects and events, at the will of the 
 mesmerizer. These are certainly very high claims ; — 
 whether the foundation is broad enough to sustain them, 
 must be left to the reader's judgment. 
 
 CONDITIONS OF PRODUCING THE MESMERIZED STATE. 
 
 It is claimed that one person may be put into the mes- 
 merized state by another, under the following conditions : 
 
 1. The operator must sustain to the patient the relation 
 of a positive to a negative ; — the 'potentiality pertaining to 
 the former, the susceptibility to the latter. 
 
 2. The operator must concentrate his thoughts and feel- 
 
MESMERISM. ■ 349 
 
 ings, so as firmly to will the result ; with the full expecta- 
 tion of securing it. 
 
 3. There must be an entire agreement between the par- 
 ties ; the will of the patient being entirely resigned to 
 that of the operator. 
 
 4. The result may be facilitated, by the gentle passage 
 of the operator's hand over the head of the patient ; but 
 this is not essential, as the act is considered mostly mental. 
 
 5. No disturbing cause must be allowed to interrupt the 
 process, but the free and full action of mind over mind must 
 be allowed to take effect. 
 
 6. The posture is immaterial, provided the patient is 
 quite at his ease. 
 
 7. The first operation usually requires more time and 
 effort to produce the result, than is needed on subsequent 
 occasions : — the connection once established, facilitates 
 future results. 
 
 EFFECTS PRODUCED ON THE PATIENT. 
 
 The substance of most that I shall say, under this head, 
 is taken from the Physiology of Dr. Carpenter ; to whom, 
 of course, belongs whatever of responsibility or of credit it 
 may demand. The principal phenomena, which he regards 
 as " having been veritably presented in a sufficient number 
 of instances, to entitle them to be considered as genuine and 
 regular manifestations of the peculiar bodily and mental 
 condition under discussion," are the following : 
 
 1. " A state of complete coma, or perfect insensibility, 
 analogous in its mode of access and departure to that which 
 is known as the Hysteric coma ; and, like it, usually distin- 
 guishable from the coma of cerebral oppression, by a con- 
 stant twinkling movement of the eyelids. In this condition 
 severe surgical operations may be performed, without any 
 consciousness on the part of the patient ; and it is not 
 unfrequently found, that the state of torpor extends from 
 the cerebrum and sensoria ganglia to the medulla oblongata, 
 30 
 
350 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 so that the respiratory movements become seriously inter- 
 fered with, and a state of partial asphyxia supervenes." * 
 These phenomena have been frequently witnessed among 
 us. I have often seen surgical operations, of the most 
 painful kind, performed upon patients in this state, without 
 producing in them the least sensation. 
 
 2. A state of somnambulism. In this state the patient 
 exhibits all the varieties of phenomena pertaining to natural 
 sleep-walking ; f from a very limited activity of the mental 
 powers, to a state of complete double consciousness , in which 
 he manifests all the ordinary powers of his mind ; but, after 
 the spell is broken, remembers nothing of what has passed. 
 In this state, the thoughts of the patient are usually much 
 under the direction of the operator, being guided by the 
 principle of suggestion, without any correction from the 
 teachings of common experience. The emotional powers 
 are more excited than the purely intellectual, and the atten- 
 tion may be so completely fixed upon one object, as to pro- 
 duce an entire insensibility to all impressions not connected 
 with it. There is in this respect a correspondence with the 
 phenomena of ordinary somnambulism ; but there is this 
 difference, that the mind is more subject to external influ- 
 ences, and may therefore be more readily played upon by 
 the operator. Insensibility to pain may be produced in this 
 state nearly as complete as that which occurs in the coma- 
 
 * Physiology, p. 732. 
 
 t " The state of [natural] somnambulism appears to be nearer to that 
 of wakeful activity of the whole mind than is that of dreaming. In the 
 latter condition, the individual is unconscious of external objects ; for, if 
 they produce an effect upon him, it is in modifying the current of ideas, 
 frequently in some extraordinary manner ; and he does not form any true 
 perception or idea of their nature. But in somnambulism his senses are 
 partly awake, so that impressions made upon them may be properly 
 represented to the mind, and excite there the ideas with which they are 
 connected ; moreover, the cerebellum is also awake, so that the move- 
 ments which the individual performs are perfectly adapted to their object. 
 Indeed, it has frequently occurred, that the power of balancing the body 
 has been so remarkably exercised in this condition, that sleep-walkers 
 have traversed narrow and difficult paths, on which they could not have 
 passed in open day, when conscious of their danger." — Carpenter's Physi- 
 ology, p. 373. 
 
MESMERISM. 351 
 
 tose state mentioned above, by causing the mind to be 
 exclusively directed towards another object.* 
 
 3. An extraordinary exaltation of one or more of the 
 senses. In this state, the patient becomes susceptible of 
 influences, which, in his natural condition, would be unno- 
 ticed. In speaking of the senses, I had occasion to mention 
 instances in which some of them, even in their natural state, 
 manifested very Uncommon powers. It is not incredible, 
 therefore, that under the influence of disease, or some other 
 powerfully exciting cause, they should sometimes give 
 symptoms of extraordinary exaltation. Dr. Carpenter gives 
 an account of a lad in a state of natural somnambulism, who 
 had his sense of smell so remarkably heightened, as to be 
 able to assign, without the least hesitation, a glove placed 
 
 # The " double consciouness" referred to above, has its parallel in natural 
 phenomena induced by disease or over-sleeping. Dr. Spurzheim says, 
 " It is not true that consciousness is always single, either in refer- 
 ence to external senses, or to the internal faculties. There are diseased 
 persons who see all objects double. Numbers of madmen hear angels 
 singing, or devils roaring, only on one side. One of Gaul's friends, a 
 physician, often complained that he could not think in the left side of his 
 head ; the right side was one inch higher than his left. — There are other 
 sorts of remarkable cases, which prove that consciousness is not always 
 single. Mr. Combe (System of Phrenology, p. 108,) quotes from the 
 Medical Repository the case of a Miss R. in the United States, who natu- 
 rally possessed a very good constitution, and arrived at adult age without 
 having it impaired by disease. Without any forewarning she fell into a 
 profound sleep, which continued several hours beyond the ordinary time. 
 On waking, she was discovered to have lost every trait of acquired knowl- 
 edge. Her memory was tabula rasa. All vestiges both of words and 
 things were obliterated and gone. It was found necessary for her to learn 
 every thing again. She even acquired, by new efforts, the art of spelling, 
 reading, writing, and calculating, and gradually became acquainted with 
 the persons and objects around, like a being for the first time brought into 
 the world. In these exercises she made considerable proficiency. But 
 after a few months another fit of somnolency invaded her. On rousing 
 from it, she found herself restored to the state she was before the first 
 paroxysm, but was wholly ignorant of every event and occurrence that 
 had befallen her afterwards. The former condition of her existence she 
 called the old state, and the latter the new state, and she was as uncon- 
 scious of her double character, as two distinct persons are of their respec- 
 tive natures. During four years and upwards, she had undergone peri- 
 odical transitions from one of these states to another. The alterations 
 were always consequent upon a long and sound sleep. In her old state 
 she possessed all her original knowledge. In her new state, only what 
 she acquired since. If a gentleman or lady be introduced to her in the 
 old state, or vice versa, and so of all other matters, to know them satisfac- 
 torily, she must learn them in both states. In the old state, she possesses 
 
352 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 in his hand to its right owner, in the midst of about thirty 
 persons, the boy himself being blindfolded.* 
 
 But the sense, whose powers are more particularly ex- 
 alted, and to which most importance is attached, is that of 
 sight. In states of natural somnambulism, this sense has 
 been frequently so heightened as to discern objects in the 
 dark, and through various media which ordinarily quite 
 obstruct vision. The same is claimed for it in those states 
 of artificial somnambulism, which are produced by mesmeric 
 influences. It is not incredible that the mind should be 
 made so to concentrate its energies in a certain organ, and 
 that the action of this organ should be so increased, as to re- 
 quire only a tenth or a hundredth part of the usual cause from 
 without, to produce sensation and perception. That amount 
 of light, which ordinarily seems to the eye almost total dark- 
 ness, may suffice, under this extraordinary exaltation of the 
 sense, to enable the patient to see clearly. But this is by 
 no means tantamount to seeing without light. Somnambu- 
 lists have seen to read through bandages and with closed 
 eyelids,f but when a plate of solid metal was interposed, 
 
 fine powers of penmanship, while in the new. writes a poor, awkward 
 hand, not having had time or means to become expert. In January, 1816, 
 both the lady and her family were able to conduct affairs without embar- 
 rassment. By quickly knowing whether she is in the old state or the 
 new, they regulate their intercourse, and govern themselves accordingly. 
 The Rev. Timothy Alden, of Meadville, has "drawn up a history of this 
 curious case." — Spurzheim's Phrenology, vol. 1, pp. 76, 77. After citing 
 other cases, the author adds, " The same phenomena presents themselves, 
 when in a state of somnambulism produced by animal magnetism. It 
 has been repeatedly observed that some magnetized persons acquire a 
 new consciousness and memory during their magnetic sleep. When this 
 state has subsided, all that passed in it is obliterated, and the recollection 
 of the ordinary state is restored. If the magnetic sleep is recalled again, 
 the memory and the circumstances which occurred in that state is 
 restored, so that the individuals may be said to live in a state of double 
 consciousness. " -— Ibid. 
 
 * Physiology, p. 399. 
 
 t Last evening I witnessed an instance of this kind. A woman, with 
 her eyes shut, and eyelids held firmly together by another person, saw 
 distinctly, and named every object which was held before her. There was 
 no possible chance for any trick or illusion. But Avhen a solid, opaque 
 substance was interposed betwen her eyes and the object presented, 
 she could not see it. Her eyelids may have been uncommonly thin 
 and translucent, and her sense of eight in a state of extraordinary exal- 
 tation. 
 
MESMERISM. 353 
 
 they could not discern a letter. Whatever is absolutely 
 impervious to light, is fatal to sensuous vision. 
 
 4. The muscular system may be excited to action in 
 unusual modes and ivith unusual energy. 
 
 " Notwithstanding the fallacy of many of the cases of 
 cataleptic rigidity, which have been publicly exhibited," says 
 Dr. Carpenter, " the author is satisfied, from investigations 
 privately made, of the possibility of artificially inducing this 
 condition. A slight irritation of the muscles themselves, or 
 of the skin which covers them — as by drawing the points 
 of the fingers over them, or even wafting currents of air 
 over the surface — is sufficient to excite the tonic muscular 
 contraction, which may continue in sufficient force to sus- 
 pend a considerable weight, for a longer period than it could 
 be kept up by any conceivable effort of voluntary power. 
 
 " Further, by directing the attention exclusively to any set 
 of muscles, and by impressing the mind of the somnambulist 
 with the facility of the action to be performed, a very extra- 
 ordinary degree of muscular power may be called forth, 
 even in very feeble individuals. Thus the author has seen 
 a man of extremely low muscular development and small 
 stature, not only lift up a twenty-eight pound weight upon 
 his little finger, but even swing it round his head with the 
 greatest apparent facility ; having been previously assured 
 that it was as light as a feather. Upon taking up the same 
 weight upon their own little fingers, the author and his 
 friends were very glad to lay it down after raising it a foot 
 from the ground ; and the subject of this experiment (a re- 
 spectable middle-aged man, who was not an " exhibitor," 
 and upon whom no suspicion of any kind rested) declined, 
 when in his waking state, even attempting to lift the weight, 
 on the ground that it would strain him too much." * 
 
 * There seems to be a resemblance between the states produced by 
 Mesmerism and cases of Electro-Biology, although in some respects they dif- 
 fer. The abnormal mental states are quite as extraordinary in the latter 
 case as in the former, while those of the body are perhaps still stranger. 
 I have recently witnessed some striking illustrations of electro-biology in 
 a private circle of some dozen persons. A gentleman experimented upon 
 a young man about twenty-two years old. The character of the parties 
 forbids all suspicion of any trick or deception ; moreover, the young 
 man operated upon had never read nor attended any lectures upon this 
 subject, and knew nothing about it. 
 
 30* 
 
354 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 " These are the principal phenomena of artificial somnam- 
 bulism," continues the learned doctor, " in regard to which 
 the author finds his mind made up. He does not see why 
 any discredit should be attached to them, since they corres- 
 pond, in all essential particulars, with those of states which 
 naturally or spontaneously occur in many individuals, and 
 which he has had opportunity of personally observing in 
 cases in which the well known characters of the parties 
 placed them above suspicion. When the facility with which 
 the mind of the somnambulist is played on by suggestions, 
 conveyed either in language or by other sensations which 
 
 Having practised the appropriate movements upen the patient, the 
 operator closed the patient's eyes, and then told him to open them if he 
 could. He could not open them. After straining in vain for some time, 
 he was told that he might open them ; he then instantly opened them, 
 with the usual ease. In like manner, without touching the patient's per- 
 son, the operator stopped him while walking, so that he stood like a post, 
 unable to move in any direction ; he told him to lay his hands on his 
 head, and when laid there, he could not remove them ; he told him to 
 extend them in front and bring them together, and when so brought to- 
 gether, he could not separate them ; he told him to sit down, and Avhen 
 seated he could not rise ; — in a word, in whatever position the operator 
 placed him, in that position he was compelled to remain, with muscles as 
 firm as iron, until he was permitted to move. 
 
 The operator told him that he had come into company strangely 
 dressed ; that he had on a green coat, yellow vest, white pantaloons, 
 and red boots ; finally, that he was a negro ; — he believed it all, until the 
 illusion was removed by the operator. He placed a staff in his hands, 
 compelled him to hold it, and while he was holding it made him think it 
 was a snake bending up its head to bite him. The poor young man 
 writhed in agony, and tried to throw the monster from his hands, but could 
 not, until told that he might. The operator made him think that he had 
 cut off his right hand, and he realized all the pain, the bleeding, the anx- 
 iety of such a calamity. The operator made him mistake cold water for 
 water boiling hot, for vinegar, for wormwood, &c, and to experience all 
 the effects from handling and tasting it, which these agents severally pro- 
 duce. He made him think that he threw a rope over the moon, drew it 
 down to him, and found it to be a large green cheese. He seemed much 
 amused, but not surprised. The operator had such entire control over the 
 patient's mind as well as muscles, that whatever impression he made upon 
 it, continued upon it, and had all the force of a reality until he removed 
 it. In whatever position or motion he put the body, and whatever im- 
 pression he made upon the mind, the same continued until he changed it; 
 and he changed it without touching the patient, by only speaking to him. 
 During the whole time, the patient was perfectly conscious of what was 
 said and done, and recollected all his impressions and feelings after the 
 spell was over. In this respect, as well as some others, cases of Electro- 
 Biology differ from ordinary cases of Mesmerism. Yet they seem to be 
 essentially the same, in their general character. 
 
MESMERISM. 355 
 
 excite associated ideas, and the absence of the corrective 
 power ordinarily supplied by past experience, are duly kept 
 in view, many of the supposed ' higher phenomena ' of 
 Mesmerism may be accounted for, without regarding the 
 patient, on the one hand, as possessed of extraordinary 
 powers of divination, or on the other as practising deception. 
 Thus bearing in mind that somnambulism is an acted dream, 
 the course of which is governed by external impressions, 
 it is easy to understand how the subject of it may be direct- 
 ed, by leading questions, to enter buildings which he has 
 never seen, and to describe scenes which he has never 
 witnessed, without any intentional deceit. 
 
 " The love of the marvellous, so strongly possessed by many 
 of the witnesses of such exhibitions, prompts them to grasp 
 at and to exaggerate the coincidences in all such perform- 
 ances, and to neglect the failures ; and hence reports are 
 given to the public, which, when the real truth of them is 
 known, prove to have been the results of a series of guesses, 
 the correctness of which is in direct relation to the amount 
 of guidance afforded by the questions themselves. 
 
 u In like manner, the manifestations of the excitement of 
 4 phrenological organs,' seems to depend upon the convey- 
 ance of a suggestion to the patient, either through his knowl- 
 edge of their supposed seat, or through the anticipations ex- 
 pressed by the by-standers. Many instances are recorded, in 
 which the intention has been stated of exciting one organ, 
 whilst the finger has been placed upon, or pointed at, another ; 
 and the resulting manifestation has always been that which 
 would flow from the former. It does not hence follow that 
 intentional deception is practised by the somnambulist ; 
 since the condition of mind already referred to, causes it 
 to respond to the suggestion which is most strongly con- 
 veyed to it. Many of the emotional states are readily 
 excitable, by placing the muscles in the condition which 
 naturally expresses them ; — thus the combative tendency 
 may be called forth by gently flexing the fingers, so as to 
 double the fist ; a cheerful, hilarous mood may be induced 
 by drawing outwards the corners of the mouth, as in laugh- 
 ter ; and this may be exchanged for the reverse state of 
 gloom and ill-temper, by drawing the eyebrows downwards 
 
356 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and towards each other, as in frowning. In like manner 
 on putting the hand upon the vertex, the somnambulist 
 draws himself up, and shows the manifestations of self- 
 esteem ; whilst the depression of the head into the position 
 of humility calls for the corresponding emotion. Those who 
 have carefully observed the habits of infants and young chil- 
 dren, must perceive the accordance of these phenomena 
 with those which continually present themselves at that 
 early period of life, when the condition of the mind is so 
 completely under the government of suggestions received 
 from without. 
 
 " In regard to the alleged powers, which are said to be 
 possessed by many somnambulists, of reading with the eyes 
 completely covered, or of discerning words inclosed in 
 opaque boxes, the author need only here express his com- 
 plete conviction that no case of this description has ever 
 stood the test of a searching investigation." * 
 
 METHOD OF INDUCING SOMNAMBULISM. 
 
 The somnambulic state is frequently induced by the ordi- 
 nary process of Mesmerism. But there are other methods 
 of inducing it. " The modes in which the artificial somnam- 
 bulism may be induced," says Dr. Carpenter, " are ex- 
 tremely various. The experiments of Mr. Braid have 
 shown, that one of the most essential is the continued con- 
 vergence of the eyes upon a bright object, held at a small 
 distance above and in front of them, and gradually approxi- 
 mated towards them. The more steady direction of the eyes 
 towards a distant object, in persons who have often practised 
 the former method, frequently serves to induce this state. 
 All the phenomena described in the preceding paragraphs 
 have been witnessed by the author in individuals thus ' hyp- 
 notized ; ' and he considers that this curious class of obser- 
 vations cannot be better prosecuted than by the employment 
 of that method. He is not yet satisfied that, in the ordi- 
 nary mesmeric process, any other influence than this is really 
 
 * Carpenters ^Physiology, pp. 732, 733. 
 
 er, 
 
MESMERISM. 357 
 
 exerted ; but the patient is sent to sleep with the dominant 
 idea that some influence is exercised by the mesmerizer, 
 and this idea affects all the subsequent phenomena, — pro- 
 ducing, for example, in some cases, insensibility to every 
 thing but what is said by the mesmerizer, or by an individ- 
 ual placed by him en rapport with the somnambulist. It 
 will generally be found, that the degree of this supposed 
 connection depends upon the notions of it previously formed 
 by the individual mesmerized. In the hypnotic state, there 
 is an entire absence of any such peculiar influence ; the 
 somnambulist being equally conscious of what is said or 
 done by every by-stander." * 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 If the above views are correct, the line of demarkation 
 between the terra cognita and the terra incognita, in rela- 
 tion to this subject, is pretty distinctly defined. A state of 
 artificial coma, somnambulism, exaltation of the senses, in- 
 creased muscular energy, in connection with the effect of 
 the operator's mind guiding that of the patient by sugges- 
 tions, is fully conceded as the result of mesmeric influence ; 
 and to this we may undoubtedly add whatever of charm, 
 fascination, and other pleasing and painful excitements 
 would naturally attend such extraordinary states. 
 
 Thus far science clearly conducts us ; all beyond seems 
 somewhat involved in uncertainty. Yet we ought to hold 
 ourselves ever subject to the teachings of experience and of 
 well ascertained facts ; — it is impossible to foretell to what 
 scientific conclusions they may yet bring us. The history 
 of the past is too replete with instruction, to allow prejudice 
 or pride of opinion to stand against any doctrine sustained 
 by a severe induction of facts. Facts are at once both the 
 pioneers and the rearguards of science. 
 
 THEORIES OF CLAIRVOYANCE. 
 
 There are three ways in which men undertake to explain 
 the alleged facts of clairvoyance. First, by accidental 
 
 * Carpenter's Physiology, p. 735. 
 
858 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 coincidence. They assert that the cases of failure are so 
 numerous, that the instances of correct guessing are ac- 
 counted for on the natural ground of chance. Secondly, by 
 suggestion. They suppose that the suggestions of the ope- 
 rator, enforced by the previous expectation and habitual 
 training of the patient, will naturally conduct to as many 
 true answers as are ordinarily obtained. This seems to 
 have been Dr. Carpenter's theory. Still there are some 
 cases which it is very difficult to solve in either of these 
 ways. 
 
 The third method or theory of solution admits more of 
 the extraordinary, and more fully recognizes all the alleged 
 facts. It is as follows : — Every man's will is the natural 
 agent to move his own mind and body ; but the nerves of 
 some persons are less isolated than those of others. They 
 have less individuality ; are more susceptible to being 
 influenced. Hence a person of great positiveness may, 
 by mesmeric influence, obtain such control over a person 
 of great passivity, as to subject the passive will entirely to 
 his own. His mind enters, as it were, into the nervous 
 system of the patient ; and the patient's mind either retires 
 and sleeps, or acts as the master mind prompts it. If the 
 master mind wills to go abroad in imagination, the subject- 
 mind goes with it, obedient to its volitions. 
 
 Such is the substance of the theory ; of its value I have 
 nothing to say. Whether there are facts for which the first 
 two methods of explanation do not provide, or whether the 
 third method explains all, if admitted ; or whether we must 
 as yet acknowledge some unexplained facts ; it would be 
 premature at present to decide. But we can scarcely avoid 
 the conviction — a conviction from which nothing but the 
 irresistible demonstration of facts should drive us — that all 
 pretensions to seeing through solid walls ; to discovering 
 distant and concealed objects ; to revealing secrets of the 
 past and the future ; in short, to any thing like that omnis- 
 cience, which Jehovah claims as his sole prerogative, — 
 seems at variance alike with the sobriety of science and the 
 sacrcdness of religion. 
 
 Yet we ought not to impeach the motives, nor question 
 the sincerity of those who admit these pretensions, even if 
 
QUESTIONS. 359 
 
 we were certain that they are not well founded. A too 
 voracious credulity may be their only sin ; and even this 
 sin may not be of so enormous dimensions as some would 
 imagine. When we consider how few have learned to 
 separate facts from pretensions, to institute processes of 
 severe inductive examination, to place knowledge and con- 
 jecture in the scales of a true judgment ; and when we 
 consider, further, how the love of the marvellous, the ele- 
 ment of romance, the reaching towards the supernatural, 
 enters into the constitution of the human mind, we cease 
 to wonder that even the wise and good are sometimes de- 
 ceived. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTEE XXXII. 
 
 What is said in a recent work on Physiology 1 Opinions of the more 
 cautious ? Remarks ? Claims of Mesmerism 1 First condition of pro- 
 ducing the mesmerized state ? Second ? Third ? Fourth ? Fifth ? Sixth ? 
 Seventh? First effect on the patient 1 ? Explain. Second? Explain. 
 Third ? Explain. Fourth? Explain. Remarks of Dr. Carpenter 1 Me- 
 thod of inducing somnambulism ? Conclusion ? How much does true 
 science admit ? "What reject ? What is said of the motiyes, &c, of those 
 who admit the higher pretensions of Mesmerism'? How may we reconcile 
 them with sincerity and goodness of intention ? The design of this 
 chapter ? Remark 1 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 SUSPENDED ANIMATION. 
 
 In most cases of suspended animation, either memory 
 does not serve, or the mind is unconscious. But in some 
 instances both consciousness and memory are active, and 
 the subject subsequently reports, with great precision, the 
 entire course of his thoughts, during this interesting period. 
 That the mind is sometimes active, and at others apparently 
 unconscious, during this peculiar state of the body, can 
 be explained only on the general principle, that the mind as 
 well as the body has its laws of action, and that while their 
 intimate connection makes them ordinarily sympathize with 
 each other's states, they are yet so essentially distinct, that 
 causes affecting the one do not always necessarily affect the 
 other in like manner. What puts the body to sleep — so to 
 speak — may sometimes put the mind to sleep along with it ; 
 under other circumstances, what puts the body to sleep, 
 may rouse the mind to unusual activity. So, also, what at 
 one time suspends the animal functions, may seem to suspend 
 also those of the mind ; while, under a change of circum- 
 stances, causes suspending the functions of the body, may 
 leave those of the mind in a state of usual or more than 
 usual activity. Passing by the more ordinary cases of 
 suspended animation, I shall devote a few moments to those 
 of a more important character, in this connection, in which 
 the subject is for a time supposed to be actually dead. 
 
 APPARENT DEATH. 
 
 Instances of apparent death, in which persons are sup- 
 posed actually to have expired, and are even buried alive, 
 
SUSPENDED ANIMATION. 361 
 
 sometimes occur. They are less frequent than some have 
 imagined ; a single instance of the kind, brought into public 
 notice, sufficing to fill the imaginations of a whole generation.* 
 Many live in bondage all their days through fear of being 
 buried alive ; when the chances of such an event could 
 hardly be expressed by a fraction.* On recovering from 
 this state of apparent death, the subject has ordinarily no 
 recollection of experiencing any thing during its continu- 
 ance ; but sometimes his mind is highly active and conscious 
 throughout, and he remembers his experience with great 
 exactness. An instance of this kind, I have concluded, 
 after some hesitation, to introduce. 
 
 * Due caution may effectually prevent all chances of a premature burial. 
 There are unequivocal methods of distinguishing between mere suspended 
 animation and actual death. This is a little aside from my main subject; 
 but it is of so much interest and importance, that a few words upon it in 
 a note may be excused. 
 
 Physiologists make two stages of death, somatic and molecular. The 
 former arrests the circulation. " The permanent and complete cessation 
 of the -circulating current, is that which essentially constitutes somatic 
 death." — Carpenter's Physiology, p. 603. This may result from a failure, 
 in the propulsive power of the heart, constituting syncope ; or from an 
 obstruction in the capillaries of the lungs, occasioning asphyxia; or from 
 a disordered state of the blood, interrupting the changes in the general 
 capillary system essential to vitality, producing necrannia; or from the 
 direct agency of excessive cold, overpowering the vital forces and pro- 
 ducing universal stagnation. 
 
 Molecular death implies more than all this. It is not only that state in 
 which the vital current has entirely ceased to flow, but the very vital prin- 
 ciple itself has departed, and left the molecules, or ultimate atoms of the 
 system, under a new law of action — the law of chemical agencies. It 
 implies, in fact, the incipient stage of mortification. It is the commence- 
 ment of the chemical process of dissolution. 
 
 From the constant dependence of all those functional operations, in 
 which vital action consists, upon the due supply of the circulating fluid, 
 it results, that molecular death, in most cases, immediately follows somatic 
 death. But it does not always thus follow. " As a general rule," says 
 Carpenter, " we find that the more active the changes which normally 
 take place in any tissue during life, the more speedy is its complete loss 
 of activity or death, when the requisite conditions of its vital action are 
 no longer supplied to it." Hence in children and youth molecular death 
 more speedily follows somatic death, than in aged people. " The rapidity 
 with which molecular death follows the cessation of the general circula- 
 tion, will be influenced by a variety of causes ; but especially by the 
 degree in which the condition of the solids and fluids of the body has been 
 impaired by the mode of death. Thus in necra3mia, and in death by 
 gradual cooling, molecular and somatic death may be said to be simulta- 
 neous ; and the same appears to be true of death by sudden aud violent 
 
 31 
 
362 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 A CASE OF APPARENT DEATH. 
 
 The following facts are from a lady of the highest 
 respectability and of the most unquestionable piety. She 
 is still living to testify to them. The facts were stated 
 to me by her in the hearing of members of her family, 
 including her husband, all of whom were present when the 
 events occurred. The statements may therefore be relied 
 upon with the utmost assurance. 
 
 In the absence of her husband on duty, who was then 
 serving as an officer in the army, she was taken ill, and, 
 after several days of severe sickness, apparently died. 
 Her body was laid out, according to the usual custom ; and 
 after a suitable time, arrangements were made for the 
 funeral. Friends were assembled by appointment, the usual 
 funeral services were performed, and they were about pro- 
 ceeding to the burial. During all this time she knew what 
 was taking place, but was unable to make known her condi- 
 tion. Her eyes were closed, her lips sealed, her flesh was 
 cold and stiff, and she was utterly unable to move a muscle. 
 She knew that her husband was absent, and that there was 
 a possibility of his returning about that time, although he 
 was not expected for several days. The utmost time to 
 
 impressions of the nervous system. But in many cases of death by causes 
 which suddenly operate in producing syncope or asphyxia, the tissues 
 and blood having been previously in a healthy condition, molecular death 
 may be long postponed. We cannot be quite certain that it has super- 
 vened, until signs of actual decomposition present themselves." Carpen- 
 ter's Physiology, p. 604. 
 
 The rule of safety, then, in all doubtful cases, and especially in all cases 
 of asphyxia and of syncope, is to wait for the definite signs of molecular 
 death. In instances of mere soma, some warmth remains in the vital 
 organs, which, on close examination, may ordinarily be detected at the 
 arm-pits ; or some other central point. After molecular or absolute death 
 has supervened, the vital current freezes to the very centre. This is 
 followed by a certain shrinking of the adepose parts, a peculiar marble 
 hardness and coldness of the muscles, subsequently attended with a pecu- 
 liar odor and change of color, giving unequivocal indications that corrup- 
 tion has laid her hand upon the body. Eor such indications, in all cases 
 of possible doubt, wc should patiently wait, if we would be sure of not 
 placing the living among the dead. And why should friends be so anxious 
 to bury their dead from their sight, as to commit them to the grave, before 
 they have unquestionable evidence that the grave claims them'? 
 
SUSPENDED ANIMATION. 363 
 
 which it was thought expedient to defer the funeral on his 
 account had arrived, and she endured all the horrors of 
 expecting to be buried alive. 
 
 She had the impression that if her husband arrived before 
 she was buried, he would arrest the proceeding. Just at 
 the agonizing moment, when they were about to carry her 
 to the grave, he drove up to the door in a carriage ! The 
 thrill produced in her by his arrival, occasioned a slight 
 muscular movement; this was followed by another, and 
 another, until signs of life appeared. She subsequently 
 regained the state of usual health, which she now enjoys. 
 
 REMARKS ON THE ABOVE CASE. 
 
 In the instance above cited, we observe no suspension of 
 mental activity, on the one hand, and no trance, on the 
 other. The mind was throughout apparently very much in 
 its natural state. She thought, reasoned, judged, as usual, 
 and afterwards remembered what had happened. All that 
 was wanting was the physical power. The will had entirely 
 lost its ordinary control over the muscles. The body, as an 
 instrument of the mind, had ceased to act. For any thing 
 that appears, the mind might be equally active after the 
 body is laid in the grave. Still the principle of animal life 
 was there ; hence the union of the mind with the body was 
 not actually dissolved. The partnership was still in exist- 
 ence, although one of the parties had for the time ceased to 
 act. The mind willed the eye to open ; the eye did not 
 obey ; — it willed the tongue to speak ; the tongue was 
 silent ; — it willed the hand to make signals ; no signals did 
 it make. The mind was on duty ; the body was in utter 
 fault. 
 
 PECULIARITIES OF THIS STATE. 
 
 This state differs from that of dreaming ; the physical 
 functions being in a condition more like that of death, while 
 those of the mind are the same as we usually have when 
 
364 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 awake. It is still more unlike that of insanity ; as in this 
 state the functions of the body are much in their usual condi- 
 tion, while those of the mind are disordered. Yet more, if 
 possible, is it unlike those artificial states induced by mes- 
 meric influence. In the comatose state, the condition of 
 the body bears no strict resemblance to that of death ; and 
 the subject, on awaking, has no knowledge of any thing that 
 took place during the state of coma. And when the subject 
 of mesmeric influence becomes somnambulic, and discovers 
 unusual exaltation of the senses and of the muscular energy, 
 he departs yet further from the state now in question. Nor 
 can we fail to see, that this state is utterly unlike that 
 claimed for the supposed subjects of clairvoyancy. There 
 is claimed for them a certain power of mental vision, by 
 which they see distant and concealed objects, explore the 
 dwellings of others and reveal their secrets, tell the histories 
 of the past and the events of the future. Nothing of all 
 this pertains to the case now examined. The person to 
 whom we have referred knew only what she was ordinarily 
 wont to know, and what others knew around her. She 
 could not even see her best friend, and had no knowledge 
 of his coming, until he actually arrived. The case is there- 
 fore divested of all mystery, all marvel, save only that the 
 mind can be so entirely active, when the body is to all 
 appearance dead. Even this ceases to be wonderful, when 
 we consider that the mind is active by virtue of its own 
 nature, independently of the body. In this case, the mind 
 was acting, as usual, and trying to act itself out — that is, 
 to manifest its activity — through the body ; but the body 
 was not for the time under its control. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 We can explain the operation of this person's mind, during 
 the state of apparent death, on natural principles. There 
 was no apparent violation, no transcending, of the known 
 and established laws of mental operation. During her 
 sickness, her mind was intensely anxious for the return of 
 her husband. This was the one absorbing thought, at the 
 
SUSPENDED ANIMATION. 365 
 
 time the bodily functions failed. The suspension of breath- 
 ing and of the circulation of the blood, was followed by that 
 paleness, coldness, and fixedness of muscle, which so much 
 resemble the state of death. 
 
 In the mean time, the train of thought and association 
 was continued in the mind as usual. Her eyes being fixedly 
 closed, she probably saw little or nothing, but her sense of 
 hearing might have continued sufficiently active to hint to 
 the mind what was going on around her. When the mind 
 is awake with anxiety and suspicion, it requires but a feeble 
 hint to tell the whole story of what is passing. How often 
 do we observe a sick person, whom we imagine sunk below 
 the power of noticing any thing that takes place around 
 him, catching every whisper from the lips of the physician, 
 and interpreting with wonderful exactness every thing said 
 and done. Let us now suppose the breathing and circula- 
 tion suspended and the muscular energies paralyzed, and 
 we have a parallel to the case of apparent death above 
 related. 
 
 The reader is perhaps aware of the great influence of the 
 emotional power of the mind over the body. In some 
 instances, persons all but dead have been roused to action, 
 by something addressed to their mental feelings. I was 
 once called to visit a lady past the age of ninety, who was 
 thought to be dying, and who for some time had been in a 
 state of apparent unconsciousness. Children and friends, 
 weeping around her, were seeking in vain to get the evi- 
 dence of a single recognition. Her eyes were closed, her 
 muscles set ; her pulse was scarcely perceptible : — nothing 
 said or done elicited any signs of consciousness. She had 
 been a devoted Christian for threescore years ; I had 
 therefore a right to presume what was her ruling passion. 
 Placing my lips close to her ear, I asked her if she knew 
 Jesus Christ. Instantly, to the surprise and joy of all, 
 tears stole down her cheeks, emotion began to play on her 
 pale and withered face, one muscle after another began to 
 act ; her arms moved ; she revived and lived several clays, 
 to leave her parting blessing, and then fell sweetly asleep, 
 to awake only in heaven. 
 
 To recur to the case of apparent death. The subject of 
 
366 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY: 
 
 this state, aware of what was passing, naturally became 
 more and more anxious, as the hour for burial approached. 
 Her feelings on this subject must have reached a point of 
 extreme intensity, when at last they were about to carry her 
 to the grave. All her hopes were suspended on the arrival 
 of her husband; and just at this moment, he arrived! 
 From a state of most intense depression, her mind was sud- 
 denly exalted to one of most transporting joy. Such 
 mental electricity was adequate to do what no other means 
 could ; it started again the suspended wheels of physical 
 life, — the heart moved, the blood stirred in the veins, the 
 stubborn muscles became again obedient to the mind. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 What is said of suspended animation ? Of apparent death 1 Notice 
 the case mentioned. What is said in the note about death ? Remarks on 
 the case cited ? Wherein does it differ from dreaming ? From insanity ? 
 From artificial coma? From artificial somnambulism* From clairvoyance? 
 What remains that is marvellous ? When does this cease to he so ? 
 What is said in conclusion ? 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 TRANCE. 
 
 Trance is a state of suspended animation, in a greater 
 or less degree, in which the mind passes from its natural 
 condition into an ecstasy. It is usually of a religious kind, 
 and implies a special exaltation of the spiritual nature. It 
 has no necessary resemblance to clairvoyance ; it assumes 
 no divine prerogative ; it has nothing to do with discovering 
 stolen property, or revealing a neighbor's secrets, or pre- 
 dicting future events ; it is a spiritual perception, a fervid 
 imagination, a glowing heart, communing with the subjects 
 of revealed truth. 
 
 Trances are of every degree, from ordinary instances of 
 great religious abstraction, to the seraphic ecstacy of Paul. 
 Such was his trance, that he informs us he could not tell 
 whether he was in the body or out of the body ; but he was 
 caught up into paradise, and heard unspeakable words, 
 which it is not lawful for a man to utter. 
 
 Some religious sects abound in trances more than others, 
 owing probably to the importance they attach to them. By 
 placing the mind and body in situations favorable to induce 
 them, by ardently seeking and expecting them, they may 
 often be obtained, when they would not come spontaneously. 
 
 The following instance occurred at a house in the coun- 
 try, where I was at the time boarding. A religious service 
 was held there in the evening, and a Methodist preacher 
 delivered an animated discourse. At the close of the 
 sermon, permission was given to all present to speak. 
 Among others, a lady of about twenty-five arose and spoke. 
 After relating her religious experience, with great apparent 
 
368 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 emotion, she swooned and fell. As it was presumed she 
 would soon revive, no alarm was felt. She was removed to 
 a chamber in a state of apparent insensibility, in which she 
 continued two days and three nights, or about sixty hours. 
 During the second day, scarcely a symptom of life appeared. 
 No pulse could be felt, no movement of the lungs could be 
 observed ; the body was cold, the eyes were closed, and the 
 mouth so firmly set that it could not be opened. On the 
 morning of the third day, a feeble pulse was observed, some 
 warmth and other signs of animation appeared. Soon after, 
 she suddenly opened her eyes, and commenced singing. 
 
 She had no knowledge of what had taken place, and after 
 concluding her song, asked where the people were who had 
 been present at the meeting. She said she had been to 
 heaven, had seen the Saviour, had joined in the songs of the 
 Redeemer, and had realized such views of the heavenly world 
 and such experience of its joys, as she would not exchange 
 for whole years of worldly pleasures. But the whole sixty 
 hours had not seemed to her but a few moments. She could 
 at first hardly believe that the religious meeting had actually 
 closed. 
 
 The excellent character of this young woman precludes 
 all reasonable doubt of her entire sincerity. She was of a 
 highly nervous temperament, of great religious devotion, 
 and of singular simplicity and purity of purpose. She has 
 since died as she lived, trusting in the Saviour, and leaving 
 the best of evidence that she has in truth gone to realize 
 the eternal enjoyments of that world, of which she had in 
 trance, like Paul, received the foretaste. 
 
 TRANCE OF REV. WILLIAM TENNENT. 
 
 One of the most remarkable trances on record, is that of 
 Rev. Wm. Tennent. The following account of it is taken 
 from his Memoir, written by Dr. Boudinot, the late venera- 
 ble President of the American Bible Society, who was an 
 intimate acquaintance of Mr. Tennent, and had the facts 
 from his own lips. They are also confirmed by others, who 
 
TRANCE. 369 
 
 were personal witnesses of all the facts, excepting of course 
 those which were known only to Mr. Tennent himself. 
 
 "From the very nature of several things, of which an 
 account will be given," says Dr. Boudinot, " they do not 
 indeed admit of any other direct testimony than that of the 
 remarkable man to whom they relate. But if there ever 
 was a person, who deserved to be believed unreservedly on 
 his own word, it was he. He possessed an integrity of soul 
 and a soundness of judgment, which did actually secure him 
 an unlimited confidence from all who knew him. Every 
 species of deception, falsehood, and exaggeration, he abhor- 
 red and scorned. He was an Israelite indeed, in whom 
 there was no guile." * 
 
 The reader may be interested to know something of the 
 personal appearance and general religious character of him, 
 who was the subject of the following trance. His biographer 
 says, " Mr. Tennent was rather more than six feet high; of 
 a spare thin visage, and of an erect carriage. He had 
 bright, piercing eyes, a long sharp nose, and a long face. 
 His general countenance was grave and solemn, but at all 
 times cheerful and pleasant with his friends. It may be 
 said of him, with peculiar propriety, that he appeared, in an 
 extraordinary manner, to live above the world and all its 
 allurements. He seemed habitually to have such clear views 
 of spiritual and heavenly things, as afforded him much of 
 the foretaste and enjoyment of them. His faith was really 
 and experimentally " the substance of things hoped for, and 
 the evidence of things not seen. Take him in his whole 
 demeanor and conduct, there are few of whom it might 
 more emphatically be said, that he lived the life and died 
 the death of the righteous." f He lived to the age of 
 seventy-two, and was for half a century a distinguished 
 and eminently useful minister of the gospel in Freehold, 
 N. J. Such was the man, of whom the following extraor- 
 dinary trance is related. 
 
 "His intense application," says his biographer, "affected 
 his health, and brought on a pain in his breast and a slight 
 hectic. He soon became emaciated, and at length was like 
 
 * Memoir, p. 7. t Memoir, p. 64, 
 
370 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 a living skeleton. His life was now threatened. He was 
 attended by a physician, a young gentleman who was 
 attached to him by the strictest and warmest friendship. 
 He grew worse and worse, till little hope of life was left. 
 In this situation his spirits failed him, and he began to enter- 
 tain doubts of his final happiness. He was conversing, one 
 morning, with his brother, in Latin, on the state of his soul, 
 when he fainted and died away. 
 
 " After the usual time, he was laid out on a board, accord- 
 ing to the common practice of the country, and the neigh- 
 borhood were invited to attend his funeral on the next day. 
 In the evening, his physician and friend returned from a 
 ride into the country, and was afflicted beyond measure at 
 the news of his death. He could not be persuaded that it 
 was certain ; and on being told that one of the persons, who 
 hatl assisted in laying out the body, thought he had observed 
 a little tremor of the flesh under the arm, although the body 
 was cold and stiff, he endeavored to ascertain the fact. 
 
 " He first put his own hand into warm Water, to make it as 
 sensible as possible, and then felt under the arm, and at the 
 heart, and affirmed that he felt an unusual warmth ; though 
 no one else could. He had the body restored to a warm 
 bed, and insisted that the people, who had been invited to 
 the funeral, should be requested not to attend. To this the 
 brother objected as absurd, the eyes being sunk, the lips 
 discolored, and the whole body cold and stiff. However, 
 the doctor finally prevailed, and all probable means were 
 used to discover symptoms of returning life. 
 
 " But the third day arrived, and no hopes were entertained 
 of success but by the doctor, who never left him night nor 
 day. The people were again invited, and assembled to 
 attend the funeral. The doctor still objected, and at last 
 confined his request for delay to one hour ; then to half an 
 hour ; and finally to a quarter of an hour. He had discov- 
 ered that the tongue was much swollen, and threatened to 
 crack. He was endeavoring to soften it by some emolient 
 ointment put upon it with a feather, when the brother came 
 in, about the expiration of the last period, and mistaking 
 what the doctor was doing for an attempt to feed him, mani- 
 fested some resentment, and in a spirited tone said, ' It is 
 
TRANCE. 371 
 
 shameful to be feeding a lifeless corpse ; - and insisted, 
 with earnestness, that the funeral should immediately pro- 
 ceed. 
 
 " At this critical and important moment, the body, to the 
 great alarm and astonishment of all present, opened its eyes, 
 gave a dreadful groan, and sunk again into apparent death. 
 This put an end to all thoughts of burying him, and every 
 effort was again employed, in hopes of bringing about a 
 speedy resuscitation. In about an hour, the eyes again 
 opened, a heavy groan proceeded from the body, and again 
 all appearance of animation vanished. In another hour life 
 seemed to return with more power, and a complete revival 
 took place, to the great joy of the family and friends, and 
 to the no small astonishment and conviction of very many 
 who had been ridiculing the idea of restoring to life a dead 
 body. 
 
 " Mr. Tennent continued in so weak and low a state for 
 six weeks, that great doubts were entertained of his final 
 recovery. However, after that period, he recovered much 
 faster, but it was about twelve months before he was com- 
 pletely restored. After he was able to walk the room, and 
 to take notice of what passed around him, on a Sunday 
 afternoon, his sister, who had staid from church to attend 
 him, was reading in the Bible, when he took notice of it, 
 and asked her w r hat she had in her hand. She answered 
 that she was reading the Bible. He replied, i What is the 
 Bible ? I know not what you mean ? ' This affected the 
 sister so much that she burst into tears, and informed him, 
 that he was once well acquainted with it. On her reporting 
 this to the brother when he returned, Mr. Tennent was 
 found, upon examination, to be totally ignorant of every 
 transaction of his life previous to his sickness. He could 
 not read a single word, neither did he seem to have any 
 idea of what it meant. 
 
 " As soon as he became capable of attention, he was 
 taught to read and write, as children are usually taught, 
 and afterwards began to learn the Latin language under 
 the tuition of his brother. One day, as he was reciting a 
 lesson in Cornelius Nepos, he suddenly started, clapped his 
 hand to his head, as if something had hurt him, and made a 
 
372 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 pause. His brother asking him what was the matter, he 
 said, that he felt a sudden shock in his head, and it now 
 seemed to him as if he had read that book before. By 
 degrees his recollection was restored, and he could speak 
 the Latin as fluently as before his sickness. His memory 
 so completely revived, that he gained a perfect knowledge 
 of the past transactions of his life, as if no difficulty had 
 previously occurred. 
 
 " This event, at the time, made a considerable noise, and 
 afforded not only matter of serious contemplation to the 
 devout Christian, especially when connected with what 
 follows in this narration, but furnished a subject of deep 
 investigation and learned inquiry to the real philosopher and 
 curious anatomist. 
 
 " The writer of these Memoirs was greatly interested by 
 these uncommon events ; and, on a favorable occasion, 
 earnestly pressed Mr. Tennent for a minute account of what 
 his views and apprehensions were, while he lay in this 
 extraordinary state of suspended animation. He discovered 
 great reluctance to enter into any explanation of his percep- 
 tions and feelings at this time ; but being importunately 
 urged to do it, he at length consented, and proceeded with 
 a solemnity not to be described. 
 
 " ' While I was conversing with my brother,' said he, ' on 
 the state of my soul, and the fear I had entertained for my 
 future welfare, I found myself, in an instant, in another 
 state of existence, under the direction of a superior being, 
 who ordered me to follow him. I was accordingly wafted 
 along, I know not how, till I beheld at a distance an ineffa- 
 ble glory, the impression of which on my mind it is impossi- 
 ble to communicate to mortal man. I immediately reflected 
 on my happy change, and thought, Well, blessed be God ! 
 I am safe at last, notwithstanding all my fears. 
 
 " ' I saw an innumerable host of happy beings, surround- 
 ing the inexpressible glory, in acts of adoration and joyous 
 worship ; but I did not see any bodily shape or representa- 
 tion in the glorious appearance. I heard things unutterable. 
 I heard their songs and hallelujahs of thanksgivings and 
 praise, with unspeakable rapture. I felt joy unutterable 
 and full of glory. 
 
TRANCE. 373 
 
 " l I then applied to my conductor, and requested leave to 
 join the happy throng ; on which he tapped me on the shoul- 
 der, and said, " You must return to the earth." This seemed 
 like a sword through my heart. In an instant, I recollect 
 to have seen my brother standing before me, disputing with 
 the doctor. The three days, during which I had appeared 
 lifeless, seemed to me not more than ten or twenty minutes.* 
 The idea of returning to this world of sorrow and trouble, 
 gave me such a shock, that I fainted repeatedly.' 
 
 " He added, ' Such was the effect on my mind of what I 
 had seen and heard, that if it be possible for a human being 
 to live entirely above the world and the things of it, for 
 some time afterwards I was that person. The ravishing 
 sounds of the songs and hallelujahs that I heard, and the 
 very words that were uttered, were not out of my ears, 
 when awake, for at least three years. All the kingdoms of 
 the earth were in my sight as nothing and vanity ; and so 
 great were my ideas of heavenly glory, that nothing, which 
 did not, in some measure, relate to it, could command my 
 serious attention.' 
 
 " The author," [Dr. Boudinot,] " has been particularly 
 solicitous to obtain every confirmation of this extraordinary 
 event in the life of Mr. Tennent. He, accordingly, wrote 
 to every person he could think of, likely to have conversed 
 with Mr. T. on the subject. He received several answers ; 
 but the following letter from the worthy successor of Mr. T. 
 in the pastoral charge of his church, will answer for the 
 author's purpose." t 
 
 As the facts stated in this letter are in substance the 
 same as stated above, only a brief extract will be inserted. 
 " I said to him," says the writer, " Sir, you seem to be one 
 indeed raised from, the dead, and may tell us what it is to 
 die, and what you were sensible of while in that state." 
 He replied in the following words : " As to dying — I 
 found my fever increase, and I became weaker and weaker, 
 until, all at once, I found myself in heaven, as I thought. 
 I saw no shape as to the Deity, but glory all unutterable ! " 
 
 * This accords with the universal experience, that a state of happiness 
 makes time seem to pass quickly. 
 t Memoir, pp. 16-18. 
 
 32 
 
374 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Here he paused, as though unable to find words to express 
 his views, and lifting up his hands, proceeded, " I can say, 
 as St. Paul did, I heard and I saw things all unutterable ! 
 I saw a great multitude before this glory, apparently in the 
 height of bliss, singing most melodiously. I was transported 
 with my own situation, viewing all my troubles ended, and 
 my rest and glory begun, and was about to join the great 
 and happy multitude, when one came to me, looked me full 
 in the face, laid his hand upon my shoulder, and said, 'You 
 must go hack? These words went through me ; nothing 
 could have shocked me more. I cried out, Lord, must I go 
 back ? With this shock, I opened my eyes in this world. 
 When I saw I was in the world, I fainted, then came to, 
 and fainted for several times, as one probably would naturally 
 have done in so weak a situation.' 
 
 " Mr. Tennent further informed me, that he had so 
 entirely lost the recollection of his past life, and the benefit 
 of his former studies, that he could neither understand what 
 was spoken to him, nor write, nor read his own name ; that 
 he had to begin all anew, and did not recollect that he had 
 ever read before, until he had again learned his letters, and 
 was able to pronounce the monosyllables, such as thee and 
 thou; but that, as his strength returned, which was very 
 slowly, his memory also returned. Yet, notwithstanding 
 the extreme feebleness of his situation, his recollection of 
 what he saw and heard while in heaven, as he supposed, 
 and the sense of divine things, which he there obtained, 
 continued all the time in their full strength, so that he was 
 continually in something like an ecstasy of mind. ' And,' 
 said he, ' for three years, the sense of divine things con- 
 tinued so great, and every thing else appeared so completely 
 vain, when compared to heaven, that could I have had the 
 world for stooping down for it, I believe I should not have 
 thought of doing it.'" * 
 
 The distinguished biographer subjoins the following 
 remark. " The pious and candid reader is left to his own 
 reflections on this very extraordinary occurrence. The facts 
 have been stated, and they are unquestionable. The writer 
 
 * Memoir. Springfield edition, 1822, — p. 20. 
 
TRANCE. 375 
 
 will only ask, whether it be contrary to revealed truth, or to 
 reason, to believe, that, in every age of the world, instances 
 like that which is here recorded, have occurred, to furnish 
 living testimony of the reality of the invisible world, and of 
 the infinite importance of eternal concerns ? " * 
 
 A few remarks will be added, respecting the philosophical 
 bearings of the above facts upon religion. 
 
 1. They do not absolutely prove the conscious activity of 
 the soul beyond death ; for in all such instances the body is 
 not actually dead. The principle of animal life still remains. 
 Some of the vital organs are still alive. There is some 
 vitality at the heart ; the law of animal life is still in force, 
 however feebly and imperceptibly ; the body has not passed 
 under the law of chemical and mechanical changes. 
 
 2. Such facts, however, so far as they go, favor the doc- 
 trine of the soul's continued life and activity after the death 
 of the body. Here, as elsewhere, philosophy carries us to 
 a certain point, and there leaves us to the revealed light of 
 Christianity. If the more active states of the soul have 
 been enjoyed, when the body was at its nearest approach to 
 death, it is reasonable to conclude, that when the body 
 actually reaches the state of death, the soul will reach its 
 state of most absolutely free and glorious activity. But it 
 remains for Christianity finally to settle this point. 
 
 3. It is perhaps a question, whether the experience of 
 persons in such trances is subjective merely, or objective; 
 that is, whether the soul is still in the body, and whatever 
 is seen and felt is merely the result of an inward experience ; 
 or, whether the soul actually leaves the body, and passes for 
 a time into the heavenly world, to hold communion with 
 objects there. 
 
 If we have taken the right view of animal life, as the 
 medium through which the soul acts upon the body, we can- 
 not suppose that persons while in trance are ever actually 
 dead. They may be in the incipient stages of somatic death, 
 but never in a state of molecular or absolute death. The 
 soul may either remain in connection with the principle of 
 animal life, making no manifestations to this world through 
 
 * Memoir, p. 23. 
 
376 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 the body, on account of its suspended animation, in which 
 case its experience of the heavenly glories is subjective ; 
 or, the soul may for a time leave the body, pass into heaven, 
 actually see and realize the objects of that world, and then 
 return to its earthly tenement ; as the principle of animal 
 life revives, and the organs of sense come into play, the soul 
 may resume her dominion over the body, and through it 
 again commune with the objects of this world. Paul says 
 that when he was in trance, he could not tell whether he 
 was " in the body or out of the body ; " and if an inspired 
 apostle could not tell, even in respect to himself, we may as 
 well not attempt to decide the question. 
 
 4. These facts throw interesting light upon the subject of 
 memory. They prove, that although men may forget all 
 that they have ever learned or experienced, for a long 
 period, it may be subsequently recalled. When Mr. Ten- 
 nent was apparently dead, he remembered and reflected 
 upon the events of his past life. His memory was then in 
 full vigor. After he was resuscitated, his memory failed 
 him. As his strength returned, his memory revived. This 
 shows that although, through the infirmities of sickness or 
 age, a man's memory may fail, when he shall have done 
 with the body as an instrument, and entered upon a spiritual 
 state, like that of the soul in trance, he may have a wakeful 
 and perfect recollection of all the events of this life. 
 
 5. These facts conspire with Christianity to teach us the 
 immense value of the human soul. Some may be disposed 
 to disregard them, as the dreams of a distempered imagina- 
 tion ; but this is not the part of a true philosopher. Here 
 are incontestible facts ; and it is the true business of philoso- 
 phy to meet all facts, whatever they may be, and give them 
 a thorough consideration. If, when excluded from all 
 possible connection with this world, the soul can have such 
 exalted communion with another ; if it can see, hear, feel, 
 and in the highest degree, realize, things so far transcending 
 all that the natural eye hath seen, or ear heard, or hearfc 
 known ; if such a man as Paul, in this state, could say, 
 " that he was caught up into paradise, and heard unspeaka- 
 ble words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter ; " * 
 
 * 2 Cor. xii. 4. 
 
QUESTIONS. 377 
 
 if, in a similar state, such a man as William Tennent could 
 say, " The ravishing sounds of the songs and hallelujahs 
 that I heard, and the very words that were uttered, were 
 not out of my ears, w T hen awake, for at least three years ; 
 all the kingdoms of the earth were in my sight as nothing 
 and vanity ; and so great were my ideas of heavenly glory, 
 that nothing, which did not in some measure relate to it, 
 could command my serious attention," — it surely becomes 
 us, scarcely less as profound philosophers than as enlightened 
 Christians, to put an infinite value upon our spiritual nature, 
 and to make it the great object of this brief life to prepare 
 for a higher and an endless life to come. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 "What is trance? Are trances of various degrees ? How may they be 
 induced 1 Relate the instances here mentioned. What is said of the 
 person 1 What is one of the most remarkable trances on record % What 
 is our authority for it 1 What is said of the subject of it 1 Relate the 
 trance, as recorded by the biographer. What was the condition of the 
 subject after the trance 1 The state of his mind % The incidents in con- 
 nection with his brother 1 His narration to the writer of his Memoir ? 
 Substance of the letter to the author 1 First remark on the above ? 
 Second? Third? Suggestions? Fourth? Fifth? Concludirjg thoughts ? 
 
 32* 
 
PART V 
 
 CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 SUMMARY VIEW OF THE LEADING PHILOSOPHICAL 
 SCHOOLS. 
 
 The remaining chapters will be devoted to a summary 
 view of the principal advocates and doctrines of the leading 
 philosophical schools. To give any thing like a history of 
 philosophy, in so short a space, would be impossible ; I design 
 merely to give an outline of the most important historical 
 facts connected with mental science. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY LESS ANCIENT THAN POETRY. 
 
 In the early ages, men were more poetic than philosophi- 
 cal. Opening their eyes upon a universe of unexplored 
 wonders, imagination was roused ; wonder fired the soul ; 
 the glowing language of poetic inspiration fell spontaneous 
 from all lips. Hence poetry is the earlier offspring of the 
 human mind ; philosophy is of later birth. 
 
 The ancient Egyptians were a comparatively learned 
 people ; but vainly we interrogate their hieroglyphic scrawls, 
 and even the more legible records of history, to learn much 
 of their philosophy. The ancient Jews and Arabians were 
 eminently poetic ; but while time has transmitted some of 
 the sacred histories and seraphic lyrics of the former, and 
 a few fragments from the fairy dreams of the latter, she has 
 
VIEW OF LEADING PHILOSOPHICAL SCHOOLS. 379 
 
 left us next to nothing, by which to learn the results of their 
 philosophical inquiries, or whether indeed such inquiries 
 were any very serious part of their studies. 
 
 Among the still more eastern nations of India and 
 China, we find the same preponderance of imagination. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY ORIGINATED WITH THE GREEKS. 
 
 Subsequently,- in the palmy days of Greece, her thought- 
 ful sons began to look earnestly into the nature and reason 
 of things. " The Grreeks seek after wisdom" became a 
 proverb, which divine inspiration has handed down to us. 
 This proverb seems to single out the -Greeks, as the only 
 people at that time engaged in philosophical inquiries ; at 
 least it gives them prominence in this particular. 
 
 PLATO AND ARISTOTLE. 
 
 Plato was the father of Grecian philosophy, and about 
 the year 400 before Christ became the founder of a school. 
 He was soon followed by Aristotle, his pupil, who be- 
 came also the founder of another school. Let me not be 
 understood to say, that all the peculiar doctrines of these 
 schools originated with these patriarchs in philosophy. They 
 collected and arranged thoughts suggested at various times 
 and places by others, adding thereto the fruits of their own 
 great genius and research ; so as to institute the beginnings 
 of well defined systems of philosophy. 
 
 SYSTEMS OF PHILOSOPHY OF SLOW GROWTH. 
 
 Profound and enduring systems of philosophy are of 
 slow growth. It is not for any one man, or the men of any 
 one age, to monopolize the honor of both laying the founda- 
 tion and raising the superstructure of a philosophical system 
 to endure the protracted ordeal of time. Great men are 
 rendered such by circumstances, not less than by genius 
 
380 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and industry. They are the happy men who spring into 
 being at the right point of time, to avail themselves of the 
 unappropriated fruits of other's minds, and to bring them into 
 systematic and enduring relation to their own thoughts and 
 to those of coming generations. " If we look back stead- 
 fastly upon the past history of philosophy," says Morelle, 
 " we may see that it has ever had a progressive develop- 
 ment ; that each age has contributed its portion, greater or 
 less, and that the agitation between the different schools 
 has been, as it were, the pulsations of this forward move- 
 ment. Thales and Pythagoras combined the vague theories 
 of their age into their own respective systems. Without the 
 former, Democritus and the Atomists would have been im- 
 possible ; and without the latter, Parmenides and Zeno had 
 never embodied, in regular form, the tenets of the Eleatic 
 philosophy. The struggle of these two schools paved the 
 way for Socrates, and thus rendered Plato and Aristotle 
 possible. Without the former of these, the early Christian 
 philosophy would not have seen the light ; and without the 
 latter, the scholastic philosophy could not possibly have 
 arisen." * 
 
 The two philosophical schools, the one founded by Plato, 
 and the other by Aristotle, have continued, variously modi- 
 fied, to this day, dividing the thinking world, in certain 
 fundamental particulars, into two classes. 
 
 LEADING PECULIARITIES OF THESE SCHOOLS. 
 
 The Platonic school maintains, that the mind is created 
 with innate principles or ideas, corresponding to the es- 
 sence of things, from which knowledge is directly generated. 
 The Aristotelian school maintains that the human mind 
 is created ivithout any ideas or knowledge whatever, and is 
 incapable of originating any, without the aid of the senses. 
 Of the former school are Des Cartes, Leibnitz, Kant, and 
 most of the modern German with some modern French phi- 
 
 * An Historical and Critical View of the Speculative Philosophy of 
 Europe, in the Nineteenth Century, by J. D. Morelle, A. M. 
 
 ito 
 
VIEW OF LEADING PHILOSOPHICAL SCHOOLS. 381 
 
 losophers. Of the latter school are Bacon, Locke, Reid, 
 and the Scotch and English philosophers generally. 
 
 It must not be supposed that the philosophers of the 
 former school attach no importance to the senses, as means 
 of knowledge ; nor that those of the latter allow no place to 
 the original teachings of the mind ; still there is between 
 them a radical difference of views on this point, — a differ- 
 ence more real in its nature and serious in its effects, than 
 any other that has divided philosophers. 
 
 NAMES OF THE SCHOOLS. 
 
 The Platonic school is called also the Cartesian, in honor 
 of one of its principal advocates ; it is called the rational 
 or metaphysical, as opposed to giving prominence to the 
 senses, as means of knowledge ; it is called the transcen- 
 dental, as making claims to knowledge by means transcend- 
 ing the supposed ordinary operations of the understanding. 
 
 The Aristotelian school is called also the Baconian, in 
 honor of one of its principal advocates and in part a found- 
 er ; it is called the inductive, empirical, or experimental, 
 (from the Greek empeiro, to search or prove ;) it is also 
 called sensuous or sensational, because it maintains that 
 human knowledge originates in sensation. 
 
 As Lord Bacon may be considered the modern father 
 of the one, and Des Cartes of the other; and as British 
 writers generally have followed in the steps of Bacon, in the 
 essential particulars, and German writers in the steps of Des 
 Cartes ; we may properly call the one the German, and the 
 other the British school.* French philosophers have been 
 divided between these two schools, having in mental science 
 no peculiar school of their own. 
 
 * There seem to be certain peculiarities in the structure, circumstances, 
 or habits of the German, as distinguished from the English and Scotch 
 intellect, which incline the former to favor the rationalistic and con- 
 templative philosophy, rather than the inductive and practical. 
 
382 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 morelle's classification. 
 
 Morelle makes four philosophical schools ; — the sensa- 
 tional, the ideal, the sceptical, and the mystical. In a 
 critical view, this classification has some importance ; as it 
 is intended to indicate certain distinctions actually existing, 
 and deserving of notice. But it has its disadvantages ; and, 
 in a general view, is quite objectionable. It unites men, who 
 differ on points more important than those on which they 
 agree ; and it separates men, who agree on points more 
 important than those on which they differ. For instance, it 
 separates Reid from Locke and Brown, and transfers him 
 to Germany, " which, from Koeningsberg to Basle, is still 
 advocating the most profound systems of idealism." * It 
 occasions not a few other divorces and alliances, equally 
 strange and unfortunate. It exalts subordinate differences 
 to the rank of generic ones, and of course depresses generic 
 differences to the rank of subordinate ones. 
 
 It is true, the author says he uses the word idealism in 
 its broadest signification. This he has a right to do, if he 
 abides by his definition, — and few writers are more faithful 
 than he to their definitions,' — but adopting this significa- 
 tion, Locke is as much an idealist as Reid. As applied to 
 the German philosophy, idealism is quite different from 
 what it is as applied to the Scotch and English philosophy. 
 The term rational has acquired a world-wide currency, as 
 indicating that phase of the metaphysical school, which 
 Morelle had in view. But he was afraid to use it, lest it 
 might prove injurious to the school towards which his sym- 
 pathies seem on the whole most inclined. " The term ration- 
 alism," he says, " would certainly have been better adapted 
 to express a philosophy starting from conceptions of reason, 
 rather than intimations of sense ; but then it has acquired 
 such notoriety in the religious world, that I well knew the 
 penalty of pressing it into my service. On the whole, 
 therefore, as the term idea is now frequently used to signify 
 a mental conception, in opposition to a sensational feeling, I 
 
 * History of Philosophy, p. 797. 
 
VIEW OP LEADING PHILOSOPHICAL SCHOOLS. 383 
 
 thought it not inappropriate to apply the word idealism, in the 
 general sense in which it is found in the following pages." * 
 
 His reason, then, for making Reid an idealist, and Locke a 
 sensationalist, is, that " the term idea is now very frequently 
 used to signify a mental conception, in opposition to a sensa- 
 tional feeling." But did not Locke mean by an idea a mental 
 conception f Does he not expressly say, " By an idea, I 
 mean that which a man has in his mind, when he is thinking 
 about something ? " And what is this but a mental concep- 
 tion ? Does Locke ever call " a sensational feeling " an 
 idea ? He calls it an occasional cause of ideas. So does 
 Reid. The only difference between them here is, that while 
 Reid advocates the immediate perception of things, Locke, 
 in accordance with the current theory, speaks of perceiving 
 through the medium or by means of ideas. Locke consid- 
 ered an idea an entity — distinct from the mind itself — and 
 so do all the soundest philosophers of the British school, 
 Brown excepted. If Reid is an idealist, Locke is equally 
 one. On minor points they differ, as I have shown on 
 former pages ; but the points of their difference are of 
 little moment, compared with those in which they agree. 
 The same is true of the difference between Reid and Brown, 
 although more serious in this case than in the other. 
 
 If Morelle did injustice to Locke, in considering him, in 
 distinction from Reid, a champion of an exclusive sensa- 
 tionalism, he did it only as he was misled by Cousin.f There 
 must be, in all true systems of philosophy, a sensational as 
 well as an idealistic element ; and they whose spectacles do 
 not allow them to see but one of these elements, or how to 
 
 * Preface to Hist. Phil., p. 5. 
 
 t In some particulars, Morelle is at present as much in favor of Cousin, 
 as, a few years since, he was of Brown. He is yet a young man ; ten 
 years more, added to his learning and candor, will probably give him the 
 same impartiality towards Locke, which so finely characterizes what he 
 has written in relation to most others. 
 
 Cousin undertook to annihilate Locke, and verily thought he had done 
 it. What is more, he has succeeded in making some others, for a time, 
 think so too. But the name of the great English thinker is still bright on 
 the read pages of philosophy, and will continue to be so, long after those 
 of the Prench critic shall have passed to the dull pages that are turned 
 over and forgotten. 
 
884 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 blend them, cannot be received as faithful expounders of the 
 philosophy of John Locke. No writer ever did more than 
 he, in his day, to elevate the mind to its true position as a 
 spiritual thinking essence ; to turn its thoughts inward upon 
 itself, as the subject-matter of philosophy ; and, in short, to 
 expound and defend the principles which lie at the very basis 
 of all true idealism. 
 
 An admirable writer, in a Review of Morelle, says, " A 
 philosophical system may assume a positive form, when it is 
 wholly negative, in its character and mission ; and its pro- 
 test against the errors of previous systems may be accepted, 
 and never need to be repeated, while its affirmations shall 
 be rejected, almost as soon as proffered, or, if adopted, shall 
 lead to errors only less gross than those which it supplanted. 
 Thus, the true value of Locke's Essay on the Human Un- 
 derstanding, is as a protest against objective philosophy, 
 which had prevailed alike among the ancients and in , the 
 scholastic ages. Ideas had, down to his day, been re- 
 garded and treated as detached and independent essences, 
 so much so as the objects of physical science. The effort 
 had been to analyze, not the states, but the products of 
 the intellect, — not to sound the source, but to define the 
 forms of ideas. That the mind itself is the subject-matter 
 of true philosophy, was a discovery, the honor of which is 
 due to Locke alone. He is the father of subjective philoso- 
 phy. With this discovery, his positive system gained 
 extensive and enduring currency ; and its sensation alistic 
 divorced from its idealistic element, led, by routes which he 
 neither indicated nor contemplated, to infidelity, naturalism, 
 and fatalism. But Kant was as much indebted to him as 
 Condillac ; and modern idealism, no less than sensation- 
 alism, has pursued the truth, in the route which he first 
 opened." * 
 
 * North American Review, April, 1849. Thus our excellent reviewer 
 ascribes to Locke the honor of modern idealism. It is curious to observe 
 that Morelle refers this same honor to Des Cartes, a philosopher of exactly 
 the opposite school. " Des Cartes looking more deeply beneath the phc- 
 nominal world, and with iin intense power of reflection, gazing upon the 
 mind itself as the instrument and medium by which all truth is perceived, 
 gave a new impetus to the rationalistic, method of philosophizing, and 
 thus laid the basis of the modern idealism." — Hist, of Phil, p. G4. 
 
VIEW OP LEADING PHILOSOPHICAL SCHOOLS. 385 
 
 SCEPTICISM AND MYSTICISM. 
 
 Nor are the terms scepticism and mysticism, as applied 
 to designate distinct and permanent philosophical schools, 
 entirely unexceptionable. The term scepticism does not 
 so much indicate a distinct school, as certain results of 
 schools which may be essentially different. The ultra ra- 
 tionalist, on this hand, and the ultra sensationalist on that, 
 educated in different schools, meet together on the ground 
 of a common scepticism. It is the place where extremes 
 meet ; the ground of malcontents. Dissatisfied with their 
 past views, tired of the dogmas imposed by false or partial 
 conceptions, gathered from their respective schools, they are 
 looking about for something better. They usually move 
 off in a direction the opposite to that from which they came. 
 
 On this point, the same reviewer above cited justly 
 remarks, " Scepticism* cannot be regarded as a permanent 
 form of philosophy. It marks the transition epochs, when 
 old dogmas lose their hold on reflective minds, and are just 
 going to yield place to more profound and comprehensive 
 theories. It is the protest against false and inadequate 
 views, which is needed to prepare the way to further devel- 
 opments of philosophical truth. 
 
 " Scepticism being an epoch rather than a normal state of 
 philosophical speculation, must necessarily have a reaction 
 toward some positive system. This may take place in favor 
 of idealism, if the sceptical movement had its rise in the 
 inconsequent reasonings or untenable conclusions of the sen- 
 sationalists, or vice versa. Or it may assume the divine 
 agency, as not only the virtual, but the sole proximate 
 cause of all mental phenomena, and seek the conclusion 
 of all intellectual problems in the attributes and ideas of the 
 Supreme Intelligence. Hence mysticism, which, in its 
 various modifications, resolves the administration of the in- 
 tellectual universe into a theurgy, pervaded by laws or prin- 
 ciples corresponding to the individual inquirer's peculiar 
 dogmas." 
 
 33 
 
386 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The term mysticism indicates a peculiar phase of mind, 
 in certain stages of inquiry, at which the explained is reach- 
 ing toward the inexplicable, and the natural towards the 
 spiritual, rather than a distinct philosophical school. As we 
 live in a universe of wonders, which no philosophy can 
 fully fathom, the Creator has implanted that in our constitu- 
 tion, which, when excited, tends to mysticism ; and its phe- 
 nomena must needs constitute a part of all true mental 
 science. We can enter no school, where we do not sooner 
 or later overtake the unexplained and the wonderful, and 
 where mysticism does not, of course, become an element. 
 When this element becomes absorbing or excessive, the sub- 
 ject of it is called, by way of eminence, a mystic. There 
 are as profound mystics among the followers of Locke, as 
 among those of Kant. At the same time, it must be con- 
 ceded, that some systems of philosophy nourish the mystic 
 element more than others. 
 
 ECLECTICISM. 
 
 The term eclecticism may, perhaps, with some pro- 
 priety, designate a philosophical school ; but I should prefer 
 to dissent from Cousin, in this respect, and consider it a 
 term indicating those who belong to no particular school ; 
 those who prefer to stand apart, and select from each school 
 as their judgments dictate. So far as the term is negative, 
 it of course indicates no bond of union ; so far as it is 
 positive, it may indicate elections so opposed as to place 
 its subjects in quite opposite schools. An eclectic may "be 
 a materialist, a transcendentalist, a mystic, or a sceptic. 
 Cousin professes eclecticism ; so does Morelle ; so did Hume ; 
 so did Shaftsbury. Yet who would consider these men as 
 truly belonging to one and the same school. Both Locke 
 and Kant ? so far as they went from home after thoughts, 
 are eclectics. All men profess to be, and really ought to 
 be, such. But they must finally be judged by what they 
 actually think and teach. 
 
QUESTIONS. 387 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 I have therefore concluded to consider mental philosophy 
 as descending to us in two generic schools, the ancient 
 Platonic and Aristotelian, the modern German and British. 
 Both of these schools are really sensational, as both rely — 
 the latter more than the former — upon the teachings of 
 sensation ; both are alike ideal ; both have their sceptics, 
 and both their mystics. But the German school is the 
 more rationalistic and transcendental ; the British, the more 
 inductive and experimental. The former assumes most ; the 
 latter proves most. The former relies most upon innate 
 ideas and spontaneous suggestions of the mind itself; the 
 latter, upon what the mind learns, by a slow and cautious 
 induction of facts. The former begins with principles and 
 ends with facts ; the latter begins with facts and ends with 
 principles. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXV. 
 
 Subject of remaining chapters ? "What is proposed ? Comparative an- 
 tiquity of philosophy ? With whom did it originate 1 Proverb ? Who 
 was the father of Grecian philosophy 1 Who succeeded him ? What is 
 said of them ? What of the growth of philosophical systems ? State the 
 leading peculiarities of the two schools ? Who are mentioned of the for- 
 mer school 1 Who of the latter ? By what names is the Platonic school 
 called 1 The Aristotelian 1 What reasons for calling the one the Ger- 
 man, and the other the British school ? Remark in the note on peculiari- 
 ties of German mind, &c. ? Morelle's classification 1 Objections to it ? 
 His reasons for considering Reid an idealist, and Locke a sensationalist ? 
 Remarks on them ? Substance of the remarks from the Review ? What 
 is said of scepticism and mysticism ? What of sceptics 1 Of mystics ? 
 Of eclecticism 1 Conclusion ? 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 
 
 Plato, the father of this school, was scarcely less re- 
 nowned for his poetry and eloquence than for his philosophy. 
 It is fabled, that while in his cradle, bees shed honey upon 
 his lips ; thus presaging the future powers of his eloquence.* 
 In his youth he composed several tragedies and elegies, 
 which, when he determined to devote himself to philosophy, 
 he gave to the flames. Still the poetic inspiration followed 
 him, and became an important element in his philosophy. 
 Like Coleridge, who has been called the modern Plato, he 
 may be styled the poetic philosopher. 
 
 It is interesting to notice the mental peculiarities of the 
 two fathers of philosophy, and to trace them through the 
 respective schools, down to the present time. Aristotle 
 was cool, cautious, plodding ; Plato was ardent, confiding, 
 ready ; with the former, knowledge came by searching ; 
 with the latter, it seemed to gush up spontaneously. With 
 the one, it was severe knowledge ; with the other, a mixture 
 of imagination. The mental habits of the former, were 
 characterized by objectivity ; those of the latter, by subjec- 
 tivity. By this is meant, that the former relied mostly upon 
 what he learned from without ; the latter, upon the spon- 
 taneous promptings of his own mind. Yet Plato was a 
 scholar, as well as a genius. The laborious pupil of Socrates 
 
 * Most of the writings of Plato arc translated into English. As their 
 original form is beautiful classic Greek, the scholar will prefer to read 
 them as they fell from the great author's pen. There is a fine edition of 
 his argument against atheism, in the original Greek, published by the 
 Harpers, with valuable notes, by Dr. Lewis, of the Univeisity of New 
 York city. 
 
THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 389 
 
 and teacher of Aristotle and Demosthenes, his mind took a 
 wide range over the fields of literature, and gathered fruits 
 from every clime. His philosophy strikes not a few notes, to 
 which there are responsive chords in the human soul ; and, 
 by the aid of his learning, he gave it an enduring name 
 and place among men. 
 
 RENE DES CARTES. 
 
 The Platonic philosophy subsided into a state of dor- 
 mancy, in which it mostly remained, through a long period, 
 until the early part of the seventeenth century, when it 
 was revived by Des Cartes. He was a French nobleman, 
 of distinguished talents and extensive learning. Commenc- 
 ing with the knowledge of his own mind, of which he found 
 evidence in the consciousness of thinking,* he ascended 
 to the conception of the Infinite Mind — the perfect and 
 Supreme Being. 
 
 Finding what he was thus led to conceive verified in the 
 evidences of design around him, he inferred the infallibility 
 of human reason ; since it was not presumable that such a 
 being as God would give us reason to mislead us. In the 
 old Platonic philosophy, he found some of the elements of 
 what he conceived to be the right mode of thinking. This 
 philosophy does not, like the Aristotelian, proceed by an 
 induction of particulars to establish general principles ; it 
 starts with general principles, deduced directly from the 
 mind, and proceeds to apply them to the scientific classifica- 
 tion of particulars. Principles innate to the mind, being 
 assumed as a type of all that is to be learned without, what 
 is taught by the senses is considered secondary to what is 
 learned directly by inward teachings. Keason teaches us 
 how things must be ; rather than things themselves, how 
 they are. Reason gives laws to objective facts, rather than 
 facts to reason. 
 
 Philosophizing in this way, his fine genius naturally struck 
 out rich and original thoughts, and formed visionary theories. 
 
 * " Cogito ; ergo sum." 
 
 33* 
 
390 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 A comprehensive and logical reasoner, he framed a meta- 
 physical system, which has been the basis of many subsequent 
 speculations. He supposed the essence of mind to consist 
 in thinking ; the essence of matter, in extension; that as 
 extension is every where, the universe is of course an in- 
 finitely extended plenum ; hence the heavenly bodies do 
 not revolve in empty space, but in vortices or whirlpools. 
 Holding to the natural immortality of the soul, on the ground 
 of its indecomposability, and to the mortality of brutes, his 
 theory made them mere machines, without soul, thought, 
 emotion, volition. 
 
 To explain the mode of communication between the soul 
 and the body, he supposed a very subtle fluid, secreted from 
 the blood, and called " animal spirits" to circulate in the 
 nerves, and to convey intelligence from every part of the 
 body to the soul resident in the 'pineal gland of the brain ; 
 and thence, also, to convey the commands of the soul to all 
 the muscles employed in voluntary motion.* 
 
 " His writings excited much attention, and they prompted 
 many to engage in philosophical studies ; but they also met 
 with great opposition. Gassendi and the adherents of the 
 Baconian method, of course rejected his views. The Jesuits 
 in France, and many of the Protestants in Holland, did the 
 same. In England, he scarcely had a follower. His prin- 
 cipal adherents in France were several of the Messieurs 
 de Port-Royal, especially Malebranche; and in Holland, 
 Spinoza and a few others." t 
 
 BENEDICT SPINOZA. 
 
 The next conspicuous name, in this connection, is that of 
 Benedict Spinoza, a learned Jew of Amsterdam. He 
 
 * -' Des Cartes, observing that the pineal gland is the only part of the 
 brain that is single, all the other parts being double, and thinking that the 
 *oul must have one seat, was determined by this to make that gland the 
 soul's habitation, to which, by means of the animal spirits, intelligence is 
 brought of all objects that affect the senses." Reid's Works, Vol. II., 
 p. 104. 
 
 t Sketches of Modern Philosophy, especially among the Germans. By 
 James Murdock, D.D. An excellent Compcnd, to which I am much 
 indebted, and which the reader will do well to consult. 
 
THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 391 
 
 was born in 1632, and, unlike most philosophers, died at an 
 early age, being only forty-five. A warm admirer of Des Car- 
 tes, he yet thought to improve upon his system. Assuming 
 Des Cartes' definition of a substance — " a thing which so 
 exists, as not to depend on any thing else for its existence " — 
 he legitimately inferred, that God alone is that substance, 
 since of him alone independent existence is predicable. 
 
 " There is then," said he, " but one real substance, and 
 that substance is God. As universal substance is God, all 
 creatures, all things, are but parts of God. In the idea of 
 substance, he includes both mind and matter. When God 
 creates minds, he sends forth a portion of his own mind ; 
 when he creates matter, a portion of his own material sub- 
 stance. The mind and the matter, thus created, do not 
 become separate existences, but are still only God himself 
 extended or reproduced. This is pantheism. God is in 
 
 EVERY THING, AND EVERY THING IS GOD. 
 
 " By virtue of the divinity in man, we are competent to 
 know all truth. The object which we can most easily know 
 and most perfectly comprehend, is God ; since he is per- 
 petually dwelling and developing himself within and around 
 us. To know that of which we are conscious, is to know 
 God ; to know that which is about us, is to know God. 
 Every thing within and around us, reveals to us God; 
 whom to know, is our highest happiness ; to obey, our most 
 perfect freedom. " It would seem, in this view, that man can 
 hardly fail to be a very happy being, whatever might be the 
 fate of his freedom. 
 
 "It is manifest,'' says Murdock, "that he carried his 
 speculations quite beyond the bounds of human knowledge, 
 and ran into downright transcendentalism, in which obscurity 
 must ever reign."* 
 
 NICHOLAS MALEBRANCHE. 
 
 Of the same school was Nicholas Malebranche, of 
 Paris, a devout Jesuit, whose Inquiry after Truth was 
 
 * Modern Philosophy, p. 29. 
 
392 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 published in 1673. He has been considered one of the 
 most original and profound thinkers of France.* His work 
 was published in a revised and enlarged form, but three 
 years before he died, in 1712. With Spinoza, he supposed 
 the soul to be a portion of the divinity, or the divine reason, 
 (Logos) and all matter to be a development of the one 
 infinite substance. Sometimes, however, his language 
 seems to import nothing more than a mystical union of our 
 souls with God. Holding the source of error to be in the 
 senses, and the source of truth in God, if we would aspire to 
 pure truth, we must rise superior to the senses, and view 
 things in the position of the Divine Mind. 
 
 In common with others of this school, he supposed the 
 immediate objects of our knowledge to be only the ideas of 
 things, not the things themselves.^ As these ideas existed 
 in the divine mind, before any thing was created, in propor- 
 tion as Ave commune with the divine mind, we apprehend 
 the true ideas of things, as God does, and not as they are 
 furnished by the uncertain senses. Maintaining God to be 
 the object of our immediate vision, while all other objects 
 are seen indirectly, he completely reversed the common 
 doctrine on this subject. He went even beyond his own 
 school ; for supposing that we see all things in God, he saw 
 no necessity for holding the theory of innate ideas, since 
 knowledge is more surely obtained directly at the source, 
 than by any thing that can represent it. Hence the theory 
 of innate ideas fell out of his philosophy. Malebranche was 
 a religious enthusiast. The marks of sincerity, simplicity, 
 devoutness of soul, pervade his writings, and prove that a 
 spirit averse to all infidelity, rather than a love of daring 
 speculation, became the occasion of his philosophical errors. 
 His style is easy and inviting, affording some of the finest 
 specimens of the French language at that period. 
 
 * " Malebranche, with a very penetrating genius, entered into a more 
 minute examination of the powers of the human mind than any before 
 him." Reid, Vol. II., p. 128. 
 
 t " It is obvious that the system of Malebranche bears no evidence of the 
 existence of a material world, from what we perceive by our senses ; for 
 the divine ideas, which arc the objects immediately perceived, were the 
 same before the world was created." Reid, Vol. II, p. 150. 
 
THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 393 
 
 LEIBNITZ AND WOLF. 
 
 The name of Godfrey William vox Leibnitz, is of 
 world-wide renown.* He led on the German mind in the 
 track of its modern philosophy. He was contemporaneous 
 with John Locke. These two philosophers were the prin- 
 cipal antipodes of their day. on the main question that 
 divided the schools. Leibnitz was an extensive scholar, a 
 deep thinker, a rare genius. Although following mainly in 
 the remote steps of the great Plato, he had the courage to 
 do his own thinking. It was his ambition and his aim, to 
 make philosophy as perfect a science of reason as the pure 
 mathematics, thereby to settle all disputes and put the 
 world at rest. 
 
 He began, by laying down the principles of pure reason, 
 drawn directly from the mind's original furniture, and pro- 
 ceeded to build thereon his logical demonstrations. He 
 labored the same great idea that had descended from Plato — 
 the competency of the mind to educe from itself a perfect 
 system of philosophy. To settle the truth of abstract and 
 general principles, he applied the mathematical tests of 
 identity or contradiction : to settle the question of facts, the 
 proof deduced from the relations of cause and effect. He 
 hence differed from Des Cartes in this particular, that while 
 Des Cartes held the proof of ideas to be in themselves, 
 whenever they are clearly perceived, he held that they 
 require and may have logical proof; first, directly from the 
 innate principles and spontaneous conceptions of the mind 
 itself; secondly, by reasoning from effects to causes. 
 
 * He was highly respected by emperors, and by many kings and princes, 
 who bestowed upon him singular marks of their esteem. He was a par- 
 ticular favorite of Queen Caroline, consort of George II., with whom he 
 continued his correspondence by letters after she came to the crown of 
 Britain, till his death. The famous controversy between him and the 
 mathematicians of Great Britain, whether he or Sir Isaac Newton was the 
 inventor of that noble improvement in mathematics, called by Xewton 
 the Method of Fluxions, and by Leibnitz the Differential Method, engaged 
 the attention of the mathematicians in Europe for several years. Reid's 
 Works. Vol. II- p. 233. 
 
394 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 For his curious and ingenious theories respecting Monads, 
 Pre-established Harmony, and the Best System, the reader 
 is referred to his writings ; or, for a lucid condensation of 
 them in English, to Murdock's Modern Philosophy of the 
 Germans. A notice of them would require too much room 
 here, and would not comport with the general design of this 
 work. 
 
 The philosophy of Leibnitz encountered some opposition, 
 which it soon surmounted, on its way to universal ascendency 
 over Protestant Germany. Its great expounder and de- 
 fender was Christian Wolf, himself also a German, born 
 in 1679. He lived to the age of seventy-five, devoting most 
 of his life to explaining and improving the Leibnitzian phi- 
 losophy. He pushed the plan of Leibnitz to the extreme of 
 carrying the strictly mathematical method into all his inves- 
 tigations.* To him, mainly, the Germans are indebted, for 
 their copious list of technical terms, derived mostly from the 
 Greek language. 
 
 " This Leibnitzian Wolfian philosophy reached its culmi- 
 nating point about the middle of the eighteenth century. 
 Soon afterwards, from various causes, it began to decline. 
 Many had all along questioned the soundness of its princi- 
 ples, and still more the tendencies of some of its doctrines. 
 The downright pedantry of most of its advocates, who 
 dogmatized ostentatiously, and stuffed their writings with 
 formal demonstrations of the simplest truths, rendered it 
 disgusting to well-informed minds. About the same time, 
 Locke's principles, or those of the empirical school, found 
 their way into Germany. And these principles were propa- 
 gated in, and along with, the writings of the English and 
 French deists and sceptics, (Hume, Voltaire, Rousseau, 
 &c.,) which began now to circulate extensively, and to pro- 
 duce in that country a set of free thinkers and contemners 
 of long established opinions. The friends of revealed re- 
 ligion were alarmed at the progress of infidelity and scep- 
 ticism, under the assumed name of philosophy ; and they 
 anxiously inquired, What is true philosophy ? It was amid 
 
 * See his " Psychologia Rationalist also " Psychologia Empirical 
 
THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 395 
 
 this state of things, that Emanuel Kant appeared on the 
 stage, as a master spirit, controlling and guiding public 
 opinion by his superior talents."* 
 
 EMANUEL KANT. 
 
 This illustrious philosopher was born at Koningsberg, in 
 1724. His whole life was spent in that city ; he is said, 
 indeed, never to have travelled from it more than twenty-two 
 miles. He lived to the advanced age of eighty. Of great 
 acuteness, patient study, profound thought, and of most 
 pure and amiable character, through a long life, his name 
 became every where the synonyme of whatever is great and 
 worthy. 
 
 The system of Kant is called the Critical Philosophy. It 
 is decidedly of the rationalistic school, although it calls to 
 its aid some of the principles of the inductive. He held 
 philosophy to be a science of pure Reason, at whose bar all 
 questions must be tried. Yet the senses and the under- 
 standing have their importance. He supposed that man 
 possesses three distinct faculties, rising one above the other 
 in the following order of importance, — Sensation, Under- 
 standing, Reason. He considered Sensation a mere 
 receptive faculty, conveying to the mind only impressions 
 made by the objects around us. From this source we learn 
 only the phenomena of things, within the range of the senses ; 
 nothing of the essential nature of the things' themselves. 
 The Understanding, is the faculty which apprehends the 
 materials furnished by the senses, and of them forms concep- 
 tions and judgments respecting whatever may be learned 
 from without. It is restricted in its operations to the sensi- 
 ble world, and all the knowledge acquired by it is empi- 
 rical. 
 
 Reason, is the grand attribute distinguishing man from 
 the brute creation. The sphere of its operations is the 
 supersensible world. It has to do directly with spiritual 
 and essential truths, general laws, abstract principles. The 
 
 * Modern Philosophy, by Dr. Murdock, p. 43. 
 
396 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 knowledge which it supplies has respect to the universal 
 and the necessary, in distinction from the local and contin- 
 gent. It is called rational and pure knowledge, to distin- 
 guish it from empirical knowledge, acquired through the 
 senses by the understanding, and liable to be diluted with 
 error. It is called transcendent, or transcendental, because 
 it is from a source transcending the sensual world. The 
 decisions of Reason are considered superior to all others. 
 All things must be arraigned, tried, and finally settled, at 
 her bar. What she knows, is certain ; what is learned by 
 the understanding, may be doubted. Reason is fixed ; 
 understanding is discursive. 
 
 Reason is both speculative and practical; the former 
 imparting to us rational knowledge, the latter enjoining upon 
 us rational conduct. The former is, as it were, the eye of 
 the soul ; the latter, the moral law within. The former 
 teaches what we must believe ; the latter, what we ought to 
 do.* 
 
 Many of the truths which Kant recognizes as taught by 
 reason, are what I have called intuitive; but he extends 
 the province of reason quite beyond what I have supposed 
 to be strictly intuitive truths. In his Reason we recognize 
 again the Logos of Plato ; the Ratio, of Cicero ; the sup- 
 posed divinity within us, of his various predecessors. With 
 him, the distinction between reason and reasoning, is not 
 merely the distinction between what is indicated by a noun 
 and its participle. Things are supposed to be directly 
 known by reason, which cannot be known by reasoning. 
 Reason is sure ; reasoning may be fallacious. For instance, 
 reason teaches the existence of an infinitely perfect Being, 
 because she speculatively needs this ideal of absolute excel- 
 lence, and because her moral wants demand it; but all 
 reasoning to prove the existence of such a Being, is uncer- 
 tain. The fact is certain, because directly proclaimed by 
 Reason herself ; the mode of reaching it by reasoning, may 
 be false. Upon this infallible Reason, — the finite image 
 
 * Kritih der reinen Vernunfl, pp. 800 - 830. The writings of Kant are 
 translated into clumsy English. Persons familiar with the German, will 
 obtain more clear and satisfactory knowledge of his views in the original, 
 than from the translation. 
 
THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 897 
 
 of God within us, aspiring to the infinite in knowledge, and 
 the moral law within us, directing to the Infinite in good- 
 ness — this philosopher erects his sublime system of Natural 
 and Moral Theology. 
 
 EFFECTS OF KANT'S WRITINGS. 
 
 The writings of this great thinker aroused the German 
 mind to high enthusiasm for metaphysical studies, to urgent 
 inquiries into the foundation of rational knowledge, and to 
 sanguine anticipations of the speedy millennium of philosophy. 
 He was followed by various authors, laboring to subvert, 
 amend, or enlarge his system ; or to establish other rational 
 systems. Amid the various lights of reason, the light of 
 revealed truth faded away ; the Bible was either laid upon 
 the shelf, or not opened until Reason had first decided what 
 it must teach. 
 
 In France, some philosophers went with the German 
 transcendentalists ; others, with the extreme and sceptical 
 followers of Locke ; the former, mounting upwards into 
 the clouds, on the wings of ethereal Reason ; the latter, 
 plodding earthward, at the sluggish heels of Understanding. 
 
 OTHER PHILOSOPHERS OF THIS SCHOOL. 
 
 Our limits do not admit a notice of all the writers of this 
 school. A faithful notice of most of them and of their 
 writings, is found in Morelle's History of Philosophy.* 
 Among the most distinguished which we have not noticed, 
 are Jacobi, Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, and Herbart. Jacobi 
 was born in 1743, and devoted most of his life to authorship. 
 Fichte was born in 1762, was professor of philosophy at 
 Zurich, and afterwards at Jena. Schelling was born in 
 1775, succeeded Fichte in the chair of philosophy at Jena, 
 
 * Although some exceptions have been taken to this work, it is in the 
 main a truly excellent and valuable addition to the stock of philosophical 
 lore ; and no part is more faithful and valuable than his account of the 
 German philosophy. 
 
 34 
 
398 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 and was afterwards professor at Wtirzburg. Hegel was 
 born in 1770, became first a professor at Jena, and after- 
 wards at Berlin. Herbart was born in the year 1776, and 
 was at different periods professor at Gottingen and Konings- 
 berg. Jacobi is classed with the mystics, and all these 
 philosophers, with their pupils, are among the more trans- 
 cendental of the German school.* 
 
 VICTOR COUSIN. 
 
 We must pass on to notice a single name, as a representa- 
 tive of others, in France. The name of Victor Cousin is 
 familiar to all ears. This noted philosopher was born in 
 Paris, Nov. 22, 1792. He is still living. He. claims to 
 belong to no positive school, but to proceed upon the princi- 
 ple of an impartial eclecticism. We do not read far, how- 
 ever, without finding his tendencies setting strongly towards 
 the rational school. He supposes that the first aberra- 
 tion from the true philosophical method comes from Bacon ; 
 and as to Locke, although a great and ingenious thinker, 
 his Essay on the Understanding is wrong in point of method, 
 false to the true origin of our most essential ideas, replete 
 with solecisms and contradictions, and always, of course, 
 inclining too much to the sensuous. 
 
 Cousin supposes, not without reason, that the extreme 
 doctrine of Locke, on the one hand, led to the extreme 
 doctrine of Condillac, on the other. Assuming to take the 
 
 * " That is called transcendental, which surpasses the limits of sensible 
 or empirical knowledge, and expatiates in the region of pure thought or 
 absolute science. It is therefore truly scientific; and it serves to explain 
 empirical truths so far forth as they were explicable. On the other hand, 
 that is called transcendent, which not only goes beyond empiricism, but 
 surpasses the boundaries of human knowledge. It expatiates in the 
 shadowy region of imaginary truth. It is therefore falsely called science ; 
 it is the opposite of true philosophy." Murdoch's Modern Philosophy, p. 
 168. The terms are however now used indiscriminately, or rather only 
 the term transcendental is used, and is applied to all those whose funda- 
 mental views are of the rational school. Hence Jacobi, Fichte, Hegel, 
 Schelling, Ranch, and Coleridge, are alike with Kant usually called 
 transcendentalists, although differing from him and from each other, in 
 more or less of the particulars formerly indicated by these several terms. 
 
THE GERMAN SCHOOL. 399 
 
 neutral stand, his antagonism with the errors of the English 
 school become so earnest, and that with the German school 
 so feeble, that he unconsciously falls quite into the arms of 
 the latter. 
 
 He accuses Locke of beginning at the wrong point — the 
 origin of ideas — instead of beginning with the psychological 
 facts ; that is, the phenomena of mind, in its mature state. 
 He therefore begins with psychology, reasoning, a posteriori, 
 from facts to causes ; and ends with reasoning, a priori, 
 from causes to facts. He thus, in a measure, confounds the 
 methods of the metaphysical and of the empirical schools. 
 
 Cousin considers reason a general, not a personal attribute. 
 All men have one and the same reason, of which they are 
 at liberty to avail themselves. He does not professedly 
 admit the theory of innate ideas, and indeed denies that 
 any writers ever really held it, as understood by Locke ; 
 but, in his philosophizing, he virtually maintains all that the 
 theory has been assumed to maintain. Supposing that 
 reason is not personal to man, but the same in man as in 
 God, by the very constitution of our minds — that is, by 
 virtue of what is original to our reason — we must of course, 
 in so far as we have this divine endowment, view things as 
 God views them. The principles of knowledge are then 
 inherent and original with the human mind. 
 
 This is not the same as maintaining that the mind is so 
 constituted as to admit certain first truths when presented 
 to it, — which is a principle of the British school ; — it is 
 maintaining that the mind itself spontaneously produces 
 them, from its innate furniture, — which is a principle of 
 the German school. 
 
 Among the original ideas of reason, Cousin places those 
 of space, time, infinity, substance, cause, good and evil, 
 and the essential and absolute generally. As the writings 
 of this philosopher are now extensively read, I do not deem 
 it best to occupy our limited space with a particular notice 
 of them. They are in easy modern French, written in 
 flowing and rather careless style. Among many fine original 
 thoughts, the reader finds some absurd and extravagant 
 ones, and not a few specimens of loose and incoherent 
 
400 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 reasoning. As a whole, however, to all who are fond of 
 philosophical studies, and can think for themselves, they are 
 both interesting and instructive. Those who do not embrace 
 his views, will at least honor his industry, learning, and 
 genius, and will be delighted with the easy and prompt way 
 in which he speaks out his mind. To those not familiar 
 with the French, his Elements of Psychology, translated by 
 Dr. Henry, of New York, will be found a valuable substitute 
 for his original writings at large. 
 
 We have thus glanced at the leading peculiarities and 
 advocates of the German school of philosophy. That its 
 general tendency is to displace the teachings of revealed 
 religion, to give undue exaltation to human reason, to 
 feed the fires of vanity, and to substitute, for the one 
 living and personal Jehovah, the dreams of A PAGAN 
 pantheism, facts have abundantly proved. Yet these facts 
 ought not to bear unkindly upon the men, who have espoused 
 and advocated this philosophy. It is a wise and just maxim, 
 that men ought not to be held responsible for the conse- 
 quences of their doctrines, when they do not intend and 
 cannot foresee them. Among the philosophers of this 
 school, are some of the richest thinkers, the purest spirits, 
 and the brightest ornaments of humanity. Besides, the 
 philosophy itself embodies many of the loftiest truths and 
 noblest sentiments within the range of the human intellect. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 The father of this school ? What is said of him and Aristotle ? Des 
 Cartes? His philosophy ? Spinoza? Peculiarities of his philosophy ? 
 Malebranche ? His views ? His character ? What is said of Leibnitz ? 
 Of him and Locke in connection ? What did he propose to do ? Where- 
 in did he differ from Des Cartes ? What was the success of his philoso- 
 phy? Who expounded and defended it? What can you say of Wolf? 
 
QUESTIONS. 401 
 
 When was Kant born ? What is said of him ? What distinctions does 
 he make in philosophy ? Effects of Kant's writings ? Mention other 
 writers of this school. Definition of transcendental in the note ? "What is 
 
 said of Cousin ? Of his philosophy ? "What does he think of Bacon ? 
 Locke. &c. ? How does he consider reason ! Mention some of the 
 original ideas of reason. Tendencies of the German philosophy ? Ee- 
 niark ! 
 
 34* 
 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 
 
 Aristotle, the ancient founder of this great school, was 
 born at Stagira, 384 years before Christ. Inheriting a 
 fortune, it was his early ambition to devote his life and 
 means to philosophical studies. At the age of seventeen, 
 he commenced attendance on the instructions of Plato, at 
 Athens. The brilliancy of his genius soon outshone that of 
 all his associates ; insomuch that Plato considered him the 
 intellect of his school. He continued to prosecute his 
 studies with Plato twenty years, deaf alike to the calls of 
 pleasure and of courtly ambition. On the death of Plato, 
 he was by Philip chosen preceptor of his son Alexander, 
 which office he discharged eight years, until his pupil's 
 accession to the throne. He was of a spare habit, ate and 
 slept but little, was retiring and simple in his manners, and 
 was wholly devoted to study. 
 
 An alienation of feeling is said to have arisen between 
 Aristotle and Plato, towards the latter part of Plato's life ; 
 owing to their different philosophical views. Aristotle had 
 the boldness to institute a new theory, and enter upon a new 
 track of thought. This awakened the jealousy of Plato ; 
 who became subsequently as bitter towards him, as he had 
 previously been friendly. It is hoped, for the honor of 
 philosophy, that this is not true ; although the current 
 developments of human nature look very much as though it 
 may be. 
 
 The writings of Aristotle have sometimes been compared 
 with those of Plato ; but they are really very unlike them. 
 The writings of Plato are characterized by glowing imagina- 
 
THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 403 
 
 tion and embellishment of style, while those of Aristotle are 
 remarkable for their simplicity. " The philosopher of 
 Stagira," says his biographer, " studied nature more than 
 art, and had recourse to simplicity of expression more than 
 ornament." 
 
 Aristotle died at the age of sixty-three. His writings, in 
 chaste and classic Greek, are many of them read, with ease 
 and advantage, by most scholars. Persons not familiar with 
 the Greek language, are favored with translations of this 
 great philosopher's works, in every form and variety. 
 
 Aristotle's Logic reigned in the schools, for many centu- 
 ries ; but it has yielded to modes of reasoning characterized 
 by greater simplicity. The ascendency which his philosophy 
 early obtained, it has continued to hold, in various degrees, 
 down to the present day. 
 
 FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 
 Although the Aristotelian philosophy held the ascendency, 
 yet it made little progress during the dark ages, and even 
 down to the time of Francis Bacon. This was the begin- 
 ning of the seventeenth century. Philosophers had general- 
 ized too hastily, relying on few facts and first impressions, 
 thus foreclosing the inlets of sound knowledge. Lord Bacon 
 published his Chart of the Sciences, and New Method of 
 pursuing them, in 1620. In these he sets forth, in strong 
 light, the importance of very careful observation and experi- 
 ment, as the only true basis of scientific conclusions. His 
 writings gave a new impulse to the Inductive school, and 
 led the way to vast and sure accessions of philosophical 
 knowledge. 
 
 He was the first to set aside the Aristotelian logic of the 
 schools, and to institute methods of arriving at truth more 
 simple and satisfactory. Of the same philosophical school 
 with Aristotle, as to the principle that all knowledge is 
 acquired, rather than innate, he yet took more direct 
 methods to obtain it. 
 
 " Retiring as he did from the court and the senate-house 
 into his study, from the busy scenes of political life to the 
 
404 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 pursuit of philosophical truth, he could hardly fail of becom- 
 ing more and more convinced of the practical uselessness of 
 the scholastic logic to a mind that requires sagacity in seiz- 
 ing analogies, and needs experience in collecting facts. He 
 saw that in ordinary cases, where we have to deal with 
 mankind, the keenest logic could not supply the place of 
 accurate observation ; and proceeded, with that comprehen- 
 siveness of mind for which he was remarkable, to generalize 
 his views, until he evolved the conclusion that pure scientific 
 knowledge, as well as all other of a more ordinary and prac- 
 tical kind, must take its start from a diligent observation of 
 facts."* 
 
 By the " inductive method," is meant a careful observa- 
 tion of facts in their relations to each other, as constituting 
 genera and species, and contemplating them in view of the 
 great central truth, that, under similar circumstances, the 
 same causes will uniformly produce the same results. Thus 
 from a comparatively few observations, carefully made, wide 
 conclusions may be drawn. But to render our conclusions 
 both ample and certain, they must be ultimately verified by 
 extended observation, and by facts gathered from every 
 department in nature. The mind thus rises, by a gradual 
 and sure ascent, from facts to principles, and from specific 
 principles to general laws.* 
 
 Lord Bacon was to the British school what Des Cartes 
 was to the German. Both were leading minds ; both were 
 great ; both thought profoundly and earnestly ; the one 
 after the English fashion, the other after the German. 
 Bacon put forth all his energies to examine and to prove ; 
 Des Cartes fell back upon the inborn ideas of his own mind, 
 to contemplate and to reason. Bacon 'proved all things, and 
 held fast that which is good ; Des Cartes thought he knew 
 by virtue of d priori principles, hence he sometimes held the 
 
 * Morelle's History of Philosophy, p. 65. 
 
 t"Diuevia3 sunt, atquc esse possunt ad inquirendum et iveniendam 
 veritatem. Altera a sensu et particularibus advolat ad axiomatamaxime 
 generalia, atque exiis principiis corumquc immota veritate judicat, et 
 invenit axiomata media ; atque base via in usu est. Altera a sensu et par- 
 ticularibus excitat axiomata ascendendo continentcr et gradatim, ut ultimo 
 loco perveniatur ad maxima generalia, qua; via vera est scd intentata." 
 Nor. Org. 1 Aph. 61. Quoted also by Morelle, p. 67. 
 
THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 405 
 
 true and the false together. Nor did Bacon limit his 
 method of investigation to the outward world ; — he contem- 
 plated their ultimate application to all the phenomena of 
 mind. That he, in some respects, carried his views to 
 extremes ; and that he came short, in others, of setting 
 sufficiently forth all the considerations that bear upon the 
 investigation of subjective philosophy, is freely admitted ; — 
 but although Cousin ascribes to him the first aberration from 
 the true philosophical method, I cannot but think the time 
 far off, when the great voice of British and American intellect 
 will agree with him. 
 
 John Locke. 
 
 It was in 1698, that this great philosopher issued his 
 renowned Essay on the Human Understanding. It is 
 said to have almost annihilated what then remained of the 
 Platonic philosophy in Great Britain, and to have brought 
 it into extensive disrepute, or greatly to have modified it, in 
 many parts of the continent, especially in France. 
 
 As so much has been said of this philosopher on our 
 former pages, a few words here will suffice. The leading 
 doctrine of his Essay is, that the mind has no innate ideas, 
 — that all its knowledge is acquired, by sensation and reflec- 
 tion. Our knowledge comes, first, in the form of ideas 
 received through the organs of sense, and, secondly, by the 
 reflections awakened in the mind by these sensuous ideas. 
 Maintaining the objective reality of knowledge, Locke sup- 
 poses all our ideas to be either simple or complex, — the 
 former being derived directly from sensation and reflection, 
 the latter being compounded of simple ideas by the un- 
 derstanding. When these ideas are legitimate, they 
 correspond exactly with the object, which they are sup- 
 posed to represent. By this is meant, that when a person 
 has what Locke calls an adequate idea of an object, that 
 object really is what it appears to him to be. To per- 
 sons not conversant with the ancient theory of ideas, this 
 seems little short of a truism ; and yet volumes have been 
 written on this single debated point. 
 
408 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 SCEPTICAL RESULTS. 
 
 Locke's Essay was intended for a protest, not only against 
 the objective philosophy of the scholastic ages, but also 
 against the current a priori reasonings of the continent, 
 which were flooding the schools with error. It was intended 
 to make the mind humble and cautious, in its search for 
 truth ; and to summon it forth from the little world of bright 
 dreams and pleasant fancies, of its own creation, to the sober 
 task of proving the realities of the world that God had made. 
 It has therefore more to do with the sensational than with 
 the rational ; more with the understanding, as empiricising 
 by the senses, than with the reason, as operating by virtue 
 of its unaided intuitions. That Locke never taught an 
 exclusive sensational philosophy, that he as truly made the 
 world within the subjective matter, as he did the world 
 without the objective matter, of philosophy ; and that he 
 designed ample scope to all the legitimate intuitions and 
 spontaneous teachings of the mind, — has been shown on 
 former pages. 
 
 But some of Locke's followers laid an exclusive hold on 
 the sensational part ; and as his philosophy was strictly induc- 
 tive, cautious, distrustful, admitting nothing without proof, 
 it tended in them to produce scepticism. As pupils are 
 wont to go beyond their teacher, when they deviate from 
 the right path, some of this school pushed off to avowed 
 scepticism or deism. In this list, the names of Hume, 
 Collins, Shaftsbury, Bolingbroke, Gibbon, and others, are 
 familiar to all. Among the French, are Voltaire, Rousseau, 
 Buffon, Condorcet, D'Alembert, Diderot, and others of less 
 note. Some passed on to materialism; of whom were 
 Shaftsbury and Priestly, of the English, and De la Mettrie 
 and Helvetius, of the French. Others went quite over to 
 avowed atheism. 
 
 It has been already said, that Morelle would not have 
 laid the blame of this at the door of John Locke, had he not 
 been misled by Cousin, in making hira an exclusive sensa- 
 tionalist. For Morelle's views, in regard to the necessity of 
 combining the two elements — the sensational and the 
 
THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 407 
 
 ideal — are in the main excellent ; and the following sen- 
 tence, with slight modifications, so well expresses my own 
 views, that I am induced to insert it in this connection. 
 " The whole process of sensation, we are conscious, is pas- 
 sive ; the moment, therefore, we attempt, like Conclillac, to 
 reduce all our notions to different species of transformed 
 sensations, we virtually deny the liberty or energy of the 
 mind, and make humanity itself but an ingenious piece of 
 mechanism, which is moved hither and thither by forces 
 impressed upon it from the outward world. Human freedom 
 accordingly perishes under the hands of a bold sensational- 
 ism. Nor is it alone the moral nature which is stripped of 
 its grandeur by these principles — the foundations of truth 
 itself are likewise undermined, and the road to scepticism 
 prepared. Knowledge, which comes to us simply through 
 our sensations, can have nothing fixed and absolute about it. 
 Its truth must be relative to the construction of our mate- 
 rial organs, and can never attain to a necessary and universal 
 character. In other words, there can be no such thing as 
 truth, which may not at some time prove error ; so that the 
 whole framework of our knowledge is rendered insecure." 
 This last clause needs qualifying. 
 
 " Idealism, on the contrary, leads us just as far from the 
 truth in the other direction. Neglecting the peculiar ele- 
 ment which exists in all our perceptions, and by which we 
 are inseparably linked to the material world, it first of all 
 attempts to deduce the notion of matter by a logical process 
 from our purely rational ideas ; failing, however, to afford 
 satisfaction by this process, it begins to undermine the reality 
 of the notion itself, and ends at length in its positive denial. 
 Both sensationalism, therefore, and idealism, when exclu- 
 sively pursued and developed to their furthest results, lead 
 us into a labyrinth of error from which it appears impossible 
 for any philosophy to extricate us ; they both give us the 
 thread by which we may enter into the very centre of the 
 metaphysical maze, but having conducted us there, they snap 
 it asunder, and leave us in perplexity which way to turn, 
 in order to retrace our steps. The consequence infallibly is, 
 that philosophy becomes distrusted, that the conclusions of 
 reason are set at naught, and a boastful scepticism is engen- 
 
408 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 dered, which magnifies itself against all science, and builds 
 itself up upon the metaphysical errors which it can deride, 
 but not correct." * 
 
 The friends of Christianity became alarmed at the results 
 of the prevailing philosophy, and naturally concluded that 
 either there must be something wrong in the philosophy 
 itself, or that it had been misapprehended in some material 
 point. They did not strike for a divorce of Christianity, 
 but for a revision of philosophy. 
 
 BISHOP BERKELEY. 
 
 Among the attempts to revise philosophy, that of Bishop 
 Berkeley is most conspicuous. As an offset to the writings 
 of Priestly, who had virtually annihilated the soul, having 
 reduced all mental phenomena to modifications of sensation, 
 the learned bishop published a book, in which he maintained 
 that God himself is the immediate cause of all our sensa- 
 tions.! What we call material objects being, as he sup- 
 posed, the results of our sensations, and not their causes, 
 he considered it most rational to conclude that they exist 
 only in our minds. £ In his view, as God was to be 
 regarded as the direct efficient cause of our sensations, he 
 could as well produce them without any external objects as 
 with them ; all that was necessary was, to produce in us the 
 idea of them, in order to make us realize them, as truly as 
 though they did actually exist. 
 
 The excellent bishop thought, that by thus improving 
 upon the current philosophy, he should banish infidelity, 
 recall the soul, and place it again under the benignant care 
 of its Maker. Of the two errors — that of Priestly and that 
 of Berkeley — if we must have either, we should not hesitate 
 to take the latter ; but we may congratulate ourselves that 
 
 * History of Philosophy, p. 191, 192. 
 
 t See the Works of George Berkeley, D. D., Bishop of Cloync, &c. 
 London edition, 1837. 
 
 | As, according to this theory, objects have no existence excepting in 
 ideas, those who embraced it were sometimes called idealists. 
 
THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 409 
 
 a more generous philosophy easts us upon neither alterna- 
 tive. We are privileged to enjoy both the material and the 
 mental world, embraced alike in the ample arms of Chris- 
 tianity. 
 
 THOMAS HELD. 
 
 A strange mingling of faith and scepticism, in respect 
 both to philosophy and religion, pervaded the English and 
 many of the continental institutions, at the time Thomas 
 Held appeared, to confute the scepticism of Hume on the 
 one hand, the idealism of Berkeley, on the other, and to 
 restore harmonious confidence in philosophy as by him 
 expounded, in its relations both to natural and revealed 
 truth. He was born in 1710, not far from Aberdeen, in 
 Scotland, and became professor of Moral Philosophy in the 
 University of Glasgow. 
 
 This may be called the era of common sense. She was 
 called in, by this excellent philosopher, to curb ultra tenden- 
 cies in either direction, and to serve as a standard of ulti- 
 mate appeal. What he called common sense, is in fact 
 much the same as what we designate by spontaneous intui- 
 tions. His main force seems to have been directed against 
 the representative theory, so called — that is, the theory of 
 intervening ideas between the mind and objects viewed; 
 and he succeeded in clearly expounding the doctrine of 
 immediate and direct perception. The truth is, as I have 
 stated on former pages, that ideas are results, not means, 
 of perception. 
 
 Reid was not so remarkable for originality, as for good 
 sense. In several instances, however, his usually good 
 sense fails him ; as if to impress upon us the time honored 
 maxim, that even wise men are not always wise. His 
 writings are classics in mental science, and have contri- 
 buted an enviable share towards advancing the interests of 
 sound knowledge. In point of style, they are among the 
 finest models of philosophical composition in the English, — 
 lucid, simple, chaste. 
 
 Beattie, and others, followed in his track, adding some- 
 35 
 
410 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 thing to his views. These writers did not allow any fellow- 
 ship with the Platonic theory of innate ideas, yet they placed 
 great confidence in the instinctive promptings of our nature, 
 to correct errors incidental to philosophical speculations. 
 This is certainly a very convenient method of disposing of 
 difficult points ; whether it is always fair, or in the highest 
 degree honorable to the intellect of him who adopts it, is 
 another question. However this may be, the writers in 
 question proceeded on the assumption, that the sober 
 dictates of common sense are often more trustworthy, than 
 the results of the most accurate philosophical reasoning. 
 There was a truth in the thought, but it stood too much 
 alone. That philosophy and common sense should ever 
 seem to be at variance, argued something still to be learned ; 
 for, when rightly expounded, their teachings must always 
 agree. 
 
 DUGALD STEWART. 
 
 Some French writers, such as Condillac, Bonnet, and 
 others, did something in the way of disabusing, expounding, 
 and improving the philosophy of Locke ; but it remained 
 mostly for Dugald Stewart to elaborate, and in a measure 
 re-construct the entire system, on the essential Baconian 
 basis. Without the highest pretensions to originality, by 
 his candor, his great good sense, and his extensive and 
 profound learning, to say nothing of the elegance of his 
 style, he claims a rank among the first philosophical writers 
 in our language. His books are among the best classics in 
 the schools of Britain and America. If we are constrained 
 sometimes to dissent from his positions, or to point out 
 inaccuracies and contradictions in his statements and reason- 
 ings, we must remember that the soundest thinkers some- 
 times err, and that no man is so wise as not to leave 
 something to be done. 
 
 Dugald Stewart was born in 1753. He was at first 
 professor of mathematics, afterwards of moral philosophy, 
 in the University of Edinburgh. " Respecting Stewart's 
 ability as a writer, there never has been," says Morelle, 
 " so far as I know, but one opinion, and that decidedly 
 
 _ 
 
THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 411 
 
 favorable. His reading upon all metaphysical subjects, 
 (with the exception of the more modern German philoso- 
 phy,) appeared to be almost as extensive as the literature 
 itself ; his judgment upon the merits of the different authors 
 was, for the mosb part, clear and comprehensive. His own 
 mind exhibited all the traces of the scholar and the man of 
 taste, while his easy and attractive style seemed to throw a 
 charm and an interest around the most abstruse and forbid- 
 ding subjects. There can be little doubt but that the Scot- 
 tish metaphysics, while they derived their bone and sinew 
 from Dr. Reid, yet owed to the labors of his successor all 
 that mould and system, that order and beauty, which have 
 given them a popularity greater than any philosophical 
 treatises in the English language, which have appeared in 
 modern times." * 
 
 THOMAS BROWN. 
 
 Of the same philosophical school and of the same univer- 
 sity, was Thomas Brown. He was born in 1778, and, 
 having received a liberal education in England, entered, 
 while young upon the studies of the University of Edin- 
 burgh. He commenced the study of moral philosophy under 
 Dugald Stewart, at the age of sixteen, and soon evinced 
 great acuteness in the investigation of metaphysical subjects. 
 He became colleague professor with Stewart in 1810, and 
 died in 1820 ; " beloved by many, regretted by all, in the 
 very ascendency of his genius and reputation." 
 
 In Brown we scarcely know which most to admire, the 
 originality of his method, the boldness of his speculations, or 
 the luxuriance and splendor of his diction. Proceeding on 
 the essential Baconian basis, he yet carried the process of 
 simplification to a great extent, proposed new theories — 
 especially in relation to cause and effect — struck out 
 new thoughts, and made some actual advances in the science 
 of mind. His writings are by no means a substitute for 
 those of Locke, Reid, and Stewart, but a valuable accom- 
 paniment. 
 
 * History of Philosophy, p. 366. 
 
412 INTELLECTUAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 OTHER WRITERS. 
 
 Neither our space nor object admit the notice of all 
 the writers who have contributed, in some form, to this 
 school. One of the greatest of human productions — 
 Butler's Analogy — is at once a debtor to this school for its 
 origin, and a contributor to its intellectual wealth. Among 
 the most noted of the ultra sensationalists, were Hartley, 
 Priestly, and Darwin. 
 
 In quite recent times, the name of John Stuart Mill 
 has become considerably known in England, in connection 
 with a work by him, entitled, " A System of Logic, Ratio- 
 cinativi and Inductive," — a work of no ordinary merit. 
 The writings of Abercrombie are in most of our schools. 
 Many valuable contributions to mental science have been 
 made by distinguished writers in our own country, whose 
 names need not here be mentioned. 
 
 present state of this school. 
 
 Although the distinguishing peculiarities of the two great 
 leading philosophical schools is traced down through all 
 ages, yet each has had its mutations, and many interchanges 
 have been made between them. The Aristotelian school is 
 not now just what it was under the teaching of Aristotle, or 
 Bacon, or Locke. Although still as severely inductive as 
 ever, it is yet more idealistic, more rational, and less sensa- 
 tional. It has made an approximation towards the rational 
 school ; it has taken from that school some valuable truths ; 
 without, however, compromising its own fundamental princi- 
 ples. In its present improved condition, it is at once a 
 proud monument of Anglo-Saxon thinking, and a noble 
 tower of defence against the infidelity resulting from an 
 overweening rationalism on the one hand, and an exclusive 
 sensationalism on the other. In the natural sciences, it is 
 now triumphant over all the educated world. In the 
 departments of mental science, it holds the ascendency in 
 
THE BRITISH SCHOOL. 413 
 
 Great Britain and America, and has extensive sway over 
 the continent. There are, however, many in England and 
 America, who sympathize with the German school ; and on 
 the continent its disciples are yet numerous. 
 
 The British philosophy has become incorporated with the 
 classical writings of our language upon physical and medical 
 science, physiology, natural theology, ethics, civil polity, the 
 laws of nations. What is most important, its affinity with 
 the Christian religion has been practically demonstrated ; 
 and in its present improved state, it is found to be a safe 
 depositary of revealed truth. It serves to hold the mind in 
 that posture of calm and patient inquiry, which, with proper 
 guidance, conducts to sound knowledge in all departments, 
 both human and divine. Yet philosophers have ordinarily 
 stood too far apart from Christianity. They have fixed their 
 stand-point too low, in the earth. If philosophy begins with 
 the earthly, she ought not to end there. She ought to aim 
 heaven-high. All sound systems of philosophy are parts of 
 Christianity, as all mountains, valleys, rivers, are parts of 
 our globe. Nor is any philosophic system but partially 
 developed, until its relations to revealed religion are clearly 
 shown. 
 
 QUESTIONS ON CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 Ancient founder of this school? "What is said of him ? What of him 
 and Plato in connection ? With whose writings have those of Aristotle 
 been compared ? What is said of the success of his philosophy 1 What 
 is said of Bacon 1 At what time did he publish 1 What was he the first 
 to do i What is meant by the inductive method 1 What is needful to 
 render it sure and comprehensive ? Lord Bacon and Des Cartes com- 
 pared ? What does Cousin ascribe to him ? What does the reader think 
 of this ? When did Locke issue his famous Essay 1 What is said of it ? 
 Its leading doctrine ? Sceptical results ? Did Locke teach an exclusive 
 sensationalism 1 What is said of some of his followers 1 Remarks and 
 
QUESTIONS. 414 
 
 quotation 1 What did the friends of Christianity % Berkely ? His 
 philosophical views ? What did the Bishop hope to accomplish 1 Re- 
 mark ? State of things when Reid appeared 1 When was this % What 
 may this era be called % What is said of it ? What was Reid's main 
 force directed against ? Did he succeed ? For what was he most remark- 
 able ? Beattie ? Remarks ? Dugald Stewart ? What is said of his 
 writings ? Brown ? His philosophy, &c. Other writers ? Present state 
 of this school ? With what has this philosophy become incorporated ? 
 What, in its present improved state, is it found to be ? What does it 
 serve to do ? Remark ? 
 
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